Harry Potter and the Power of Dragons
by Isdren
Summary: Harry Potter has always been an unusual child, but when an odd old woman shows up on his doorstep to introduce him to a whole new world of magic, literally, he's flabbergasted. Magic can't be too hard, right? comedic!repeated-gender-bending (Ranma 1/2 style), MASSIVELY AU.
1. Chapter 1

—**BIG AUTHOR'S NOTE ABOUT COMPLETE SUMMARY, STORY DIRECTION, AND VARIOUS TAGS, SKIP BOLD TO IGNORE, BUT DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT A CLICHE/TAG THAT YOU DIDN'T SEE BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T READ—**

—**SUMMARY: Harry Potter has always been an unusual child, but when an odd old woman shows up on his doorstep to introduce him to a whole new world of magic, literally, he's flabbergasted. Magic can't be too hard, right? —**

—**STORY DIRECTION: This section is rather long, so if you don't care too much about where I plan to take the story (spoiler-free of course, I'm just using generics) or what my inspiration for it is, I won't hold it against you if you skip ahead to tags. —**

**This whole project began almost a year ago, when I had the initial thought of, 'The magic of Harry Potter's world doesn't really make sense. How can I fix that?' and spiraled out of control from there. A long period of shower-thinking and late night brainstorming narrowed the field a bit. I wanted to write a crossover, but I had no idea what. I originally was going to combine some Merlin (The TV show) style magic, as I was inspired by a WBWL story that had Harry trained by a Merlin who lived outside of time (I can't remember the name, nor find it anymore, so if you can find it, thanks. Extra note: Harry was a Quidditch champion, maybe that can help you find it if you're interested). Instead, I had an epiphany after reading a large amount of Takei Daloui's "Protector of the Fairies" (I still haven't finished it, but it's a fantastic fic that you should definitely try. I won't try and link it, since this site is strict with links, but its number two when you sort Bleach/Fairy Tail crossovers by reviews as of this post.) After writing numerous awkward attempts at combining these two drastically different worlds (I didn't want to just shove the cast of one series into another with a random MacGuffin) I gave up. I simply couldn't figure it out. Then I discovered a wonderful Anime/Manga series called Ranma ½, which sparked an interest in the comedic gender-bending genre (which is sadly rather sparsely filled), and the multiple women romantic comedy genre (when the mc is likeable at least.) I spent the next few months writing some ahem… poor… attempts at Ranma fics after being inspired by VimesEnthusiast's numerous high-quality Ranma crossover fics. Finally, I had some inspiration for my original idea. There's plenty of AU fics for HP, and plenty of gender-bending fics (although they almost never have it repeated as opposed to permanent, the former of which is significantly more entertaining to me), but none where both are combined (to my knowledge.) So I began working again, tossing around ideas and writing 8k words repeatedly for various ideas, but I wasn't making much progress, there was simply too many characters! Not even mentioning how different the worlds of the two main series, HP and FT, are. So I began merging characters, and taking advantage of various surges of inspiration to combine the two, but whenever I tried to include Ranma-style humor (which to me constitutes repeated gender-bending of the mc and multiple girls involved both willingly and unwillingly in some sort of relationship with him) the fic would fall apart. Thankfully, I figured out a way, and the final product of Ch 1 is finally being posted today, almost a year after I began brainstorming. I plan to take the story (which will of course be highly AU) through the entirety of Harry/Natsu's 7 years at Hogwarts and into his battle with Voldemort and/or Zeref, (I won't be revealing how I plan to incorporate those two for a while.) **

—**TAGS, or in reality TRIGGER WARNINGS/PAIRINGS, since they're one in the same for some people. —**

**First of all, I won't be revealing who winds up with who, since there will be some romance as a major sort've subplot sort've main plot part of the story. It's a core part of the story, but is slightly less important than the battle of good vs. evil, regardless of how clear-cut those lines may or may not be.**

**Secondly, I will NOT be bashing ANYONE. I will attempt to write these characters as believable, if not highly realistic characters, (too much realism makes for a boring story in my opinion.) There will be no evil manipulative Dumbledore, but he also won't be a perfect human being. In fact, I will be doing my absolute utmost to avoid anything near a Gary/Mary Stu. They make everything boring, excepting incredibly rare circumstances like One-Punch Man, which now that I think about it, isn't really a Gary Stu at all. Huh.**

**Lastly, the actual tags: repeatedGender-Bended Harry, NO m/m also called gay (in case you haven't seen that abbrieviation before) relantionships WHATSOEVER (I can't write it, and I don't enjoy reading it personally. I have nothing against it however.) There will be some sort've f/f relationship(s) but they will only involve any of the girl(s) involved with Harry (there WON'T be a Ginny/Hermione relationship for example, but any relationship involving Harry is technically femslash whenever he/she is female.) There will be NO relationships between people that have a vast age-gap (no idea what tag that would be), there will be no relationships with anything beyond light kissing between anyone below the age of 15/16, and even then kissing will only be a possibility between 14/15 year-olds (relationships like are often seen in the HP fandom are incredibly unlikely given how puberty works), characters will be OOC though they will still remain the core of what makes them that character.**

**Lastly, a couple last-minute notes. I will be referring to Harry with male or female pronouns depending on what form he/she is currently in. It gives the reader a different feel and aids in getting them to imagine what I intend them to see.**

**This chapter is a bit more serious, but the Ranma-style comedy begins next chapter, which is halfway done as of now. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labour. Kudos if you recognize my chapter and line-break naming style.**

**Thank you for reading!**

**-Isdren**

**-Edit, There's been some formatting issues, as I realized too late that I can't transfer directly from google Docs, which I've been writing in as my default for a while now. There will be a distinct lack of italics and bolded text through this chapter and much of chapter two. I apologize for this issue. Its all minor issues thought, so it won't be majorly noticeable.**

Chapter One

In Which a Peculiar Teen Receives a Peculiar Letter

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

Hello.

No… No that's not right.

You begin a diary like this Harry: "Dear Diary, today I-"

No way! I'm not writing in this stupid thing that way! Dumbledore might have given me this thing to write about myself in, but I sure as hell am not writing in it like that.

Anyway, now that Ms. Grabby hands has given me back my quill… This is my Diary… I think. I'm not really sure what I should call it, after all, I sure as hell am not going to update it daily. Maybe I can consider it being an early start on my memoirs? That might work… Although it might be better to try and make this into a novel; my life has definitely been interesting enough for one.

Yes, I think that's the way to go about this. I'll go chronologically, beginning with the people I am unfortunately related to.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

The world of Vernon Dursley was a simple thing. He woke up just early enough to not be lazy, drove to work at Drunning's Drill Co., returned home half an hour after he was able to leave, sat down for a simple but good dinner, and then went to sleep after a few hours of television with his wife. This occurred every day and was his preferred way of living. There was rarely any deviation, and whenever it occurred it was always the fault of someone else. Those people usually had to deal with a rant about consistency if they weren't Vernon's superiors.

This was all brought to a shuddering halt nearly a year after his wonderful baby boy, Dudley, was born.

It was late in the evening, just before bed in Vernon's normal schedule- which had been unfortunately changed somewhat due to the baby- when he heard a loud knock from the front door. The rather large man grumbled loudly as he stood up.

"What kind of person knocks on someone's door this late!?" He complained as he lumbered to the door. The door swung inward quickly, sending a gust of the cool night air into the house.

There was no one there.

"Door-dashing? At this hour?" Vernon muttered.

"A-CHOO!" The air near the man's feet sneezed.

So he looked down.

At the man's feet was a small basket. A basket filled to the brim with blankets, which were all wrapped comfortably around a small baby. The baby, which was staring up at Vernon with very wide- and very confused- pink eyes, had a jagged scab (which would likely scar) on the center of its forehead. The scab resembled the lightning bolt on that comic book hero that was popular with the kids these days, the Flash or something. Just above the healing cut was a tuft of bright neon pink hair that matched the baby's eye color. Lastly, around the baby's neck was a thin chain necklace with a small piece of quartz hanging from its center; although Vernon's eyes glazed over slightly when he looked at it, forgetting its existence a moment later.

"What the he- PETUNIA! GET OVER HERE!" Vernon shouted behind him.

A small pitter patter of light steps hurrying rang out inside the house.

"What's wrong Vernon?!" Petunia exclaimed as she charged toward her husband, holding her skirt up as she moved.

"This." The man said, pointing out the door.

"Oh my god! We need to bring him inside!" The woman declared, reaching down to grab the basket.

The baby stayed eerily silent as it was lifted into the air.

"What will we do with it?" Vernon asked. "Should we bring it to the police tomorrow morning? Maybe someone's missing a child?"

"Hold on a moment, I think I see a letter in the basket." Petunia replied.

Daintily, she went to push the baby to the side slightly. The baby inched out of the way before she could touch it, however, which confused the woman; that was not normal for a baby. Another fold lifted and a letter was revealed. Petunia pulled it out slowly, so as to avoid startling the pink-haired child. Once it was free, she turned it around to look at the front, which simply read:

Petunia Dursley

The text was written by hand with some kind of unusual…

"No… No, no, no, no, no!" Petunia gibbered as she stared at the letter.

"Pet? What's wrong?" Her husband asked in a worried tone.

She turned to look at the man with an utterly stricken expression, and then forcibly calmed herself.

"Remember how I mentioned my sister, and her… oddness?" The woman confirmed.

"Yes… I always thought you were exaggerating about that until she showed up at the wedding with her and her fiancé's freakishness. Cakes should not be dancing, and her fiancé made ours do the tango!" Vernon replied gruffly.

"Well… this letter is from her. It's addressed in their typical freakish way. No postage, no return address. Just the recipient."

"Do you think the brat is hers?!" Vernon exclaimed disgustedly.

"I don't know, I didn't open the letter. We should go to the sitting room for this. No doubt Mrs. Patting will be watching through her blinds if we stay out much longer." Petunia suggested with a sneer toward a house two plots to the left.

"Gah, alright." Vernon agreed. "But let me go put Dudley to bed first. I don't want this pink-haired freak anywhere near my son."

"Hurry then Vernon."

The man left the front quickly, making loud thumps with each heavy step. The sounds stopped for a moment when the man reached his already sleeping son, before continuing up the stairs. Finally, a minute or so later, he returned to the front. He grabbed the basket with the odd baby and followed his wife to the sitting room so they could examine the letter.

He sat the basket on the coffee table and then sat himself on the couch nearby. Petunia quickly sat next to him. She lifted the flap on the back of the letter, which had no seal, and pulled at a folded sheet of paper; which she promptly unwrapped and held open for them to both read.

Dear Petunia Dursley,

I regret to inform you that your sister, Lily Anne Potter (Nee Evans) was killed earlier this evening along with her husband, James Charlus Potter. Their child, Harry James Potter, survived the attack on their home, destroying their attacker through a fluke of Magick. As the closest Blood Relative, guardianship of the child goes to you until he reaches his magical majority of nineteen. His Hogwarts letter will arrive the day he turns thirteen (July 31st,1993), do not allow the letter within the sight of any muggle besides yourself and your husband. Doing so is a category three breach of the Statute of Secrecy, and has very negative consequences.

My condolences,

Albus Brian Percival Wulfric Huxley Ivor Ludvic Rafferty Dumbledore

After they both finished reading the letter, the two adult Dursleys sat in silence for a moment. Eventually, like most things, the silence was broken.

"What the bloody hell?!" Vernon nearly roared.

Harry the baby shrank into his blankets at the man's volume.

"SHHH! You could wake Duddikins!" Petunia shushed.

"What are we going to do?! We can't keep this, this freak here! And what the hell does this bastard mean by 'very serious consequences!'" Vernon exclaimed somewhat quieter.

"But Vernon, what will they do if we don't take him? What will happen if we leave him at an orphanage, and they show up when he doesn't appear at their school?" Petunia whispered fearfully. "You remember those stories I told you, the ones my sister mentioned about their mages! They could destroy the neighborhood with a sneeze if we angered them!"

Vernon glared at her mutinously for several long moments and then sighed in defeat.

"Fine, we'll keep the little freak. We can't endanger our son by not taking the brat." He stated. "Let's go put him in the second bedroom. We have the extra crib folded up in the closet there."

Petunia nodded resolutely and grabbed the basket. They both marched up the stairs and to the second bedroom, which was on the opposite side of the hallway from where Dudley was sleeping. Vernon opened the door for her and walked to the closet to grab the extra crib. He pulled it out and unfolded it, resting it in the corner of the room.

"It's locked open, so put the brat in there," Vernon ordered.

Petunia lifted Harry out of his basket, carefully keeping him swaddled in cloth as she stepped toward the crib. Just as she was lowering him into the crib he suddenly gripped her, seemingly to try and pull away from the crib. Oddly enough, it was working. Every time she got him close to the crib, he would bounce back, as if there was an invisible barrier.

"Just drop him in already! I just want to go to sleep, that stupid letter tired me out with stress." Vernon grunted.

"I'm trying! He just won't go in!" Petunia replied in frustration.

After another minute of trying, she stepped around to the side and set him in from another angle, which somehow worked. That seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back, however. An incredibly loud shriek of dismay echoed from the baby's lungs as its hair changed to a bright purple and its eyes shifted to match the hue.

"Gah! Enough! If it doesn't want a room, just put it in the cupboard under the stairs!" Vernon cried.

Petunia agreed with a grimace, covering her ears firmly with both hands. Deftly, she lifted the baby out of the crib and replaced it in its basket. The shrieking stopped instantly. Not willing to risk the godforsaken sound starting up again, she rushed downstairs and placed the baby inside the cupboard under the stairs, nestling its basket on top of a mound of extra linens.

Petunia closed the door to the cupboard and turned around to face her husband.

"Vernon? Didn't the baby have pink hair before?" She asked.

"What're you talking about Pet? The freak had freakishly colored hair before. It's the same now as it was when I first saw it." Vernon replied with slightly glazed eyes.

Must be a trick of the light then, or the stress of the letter. Petunia thought to herself.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNG!

Harry Potter's head shot up off his desk, leaving a small puddle of drool on the laminate top. His currently pink hair was ruffled, and his similarly colored eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick glasses—bound together with copious amounts of scotch tape.

"You're all dismissed. Do pages five through 8 of your textbook tonight," The teacher stated from her large metal desk. "DISMISSED!"

Harry scratched the back of his head, which was hidden by his longish hair, lazily as he stood up from the cheap school chair. He quickly left it behind and went to collect his old backpack and ratty coat from the lockers outside the classroom. Upon collecting them, he slung the backpack over his shoulder carefully and tied his coat around his waist; it was far too warm today for him to wear it. He still brought the coat with him of course, you never knew when the weather could change— even if it was unlikely.

Social studies was the last class of the day at Surrey High. Which meant, thankfully, that the school day was over for Harry. It wasn't that Harry disliked the 'High school experience,' although he did for the most part. The real reason that he was happy his summer schooling experience had ended was that it meant he wouldn't be forced into close proximity with his cousin, Dudley Dursley. The selfish prig was a nightmare to be around, especially when Harry would rather be sleeping at his desk. After all, sleeping was far more interesting than whatever his teachers had to say.

His textbooks were far more interesting as well. Mainly because, even if the subject was boring, he could actually learn at a reasonable rate. Which, by his estimation, was about ten times faster than the slug crawl the teachers went at. Honestly, how could anyone learn anything useful If they were required to spend two hours learning that a2 + b2 = c2? It wasn't as if the concept was hard, even if applying it could be.

Maybe other schools were better? Harry had been keeping his grades down until recently, so that might be part of it. Then again, he was always going to be going to the cheapest school available. Dudley, on the other hand, was originally going to go to a fancy place called Stonewall High. Sadly for him, his grades weren't high enough, and Vernon didn't have enough rapport with the principal to get his son enrolled anyway.

So Harry slept through most of his classes, choosing to instead spend a decent portion of his evening going through his textbooks. It was a far better use of time in his opinion, especially when he scored near the top of the class on every test the teachers gave him now that he wasn't holding himself back. It was as if they couldn't fathom someone learning without listening to everything that came out of their droning mouths.

Harry was more excited than normal to go home today. He was expecting a rare visitor.

Once he left the school building he sped home, running as fast as he could. Given all the times he'd escaped Dudley's games of 'Harry Hunting,' he was pretty fast and had good endurance; so he made good time and arrived at Number Four Privet Drive quite quickly. Ignoring the front door, which he rarely used, he went toward the white picket fence's gate. Reaching over the gate to unlatch the lock was a novel experience for him, he'd only recently grown tall enough to do it unassisted. Before, he'd had to use the nearby rock as a stepping stool.

The small gate swung open without a sound, as it should. He'd oiled it himself so that it wouldn't creak whenever he got home. There was no reason to annoy the Dursleys more than his existence in their home did. A few steps into the garden and he set his bag on a nearby tree stump. It was one of the few dead things in Petunia's garden, but it had several interesting patterns in it that Dudley thought looked cool when he was nine, so it was spared removal.

His jacket joined his backpack on the stump as he stuck his head around the corner of the house. Harry had to make sure there would be no witnesses when his visitor arrived. It would be unhealthy for both of them if he didn't. Thankfully the coast was clear, so the pink-haired boy sat down and leaned against the shadowed side of the house. Harry sat there in the shade for twenty minutes, waiting silently. Eventually, he heard a familiar hissing sound.

His visitor was here.

§Hello Sssslaneth. § He hissed to his visitor.

A large garter snake stuck his head out of a nearby bush. Its tongue flicked out to taste the air.

§ Greetingssss Great One. § The snake replied.

§ Hassss there been any interessssting prey recently? § Harry asked.

§ Ssssadly no, Great One. Have you decided to let Sssslaneth bite the fat onessss? § The snake queried.

§ No Sssslaneth, you may not bite the fat onessss. § Harry said with a sigh. If only he could allow his scaled friend to bite the male Dursleys.

§ What of the thin one? § Slaneth asked the boy.

§ Not even the thin one Sssslaneth. § Harry denied with a smile. § How is Sssslana? §

§ Sssslana is with eggssss! They will hatch, along with the other eggssss in the den, in sssseveral ssssetssss of moonssss. § The garter snake exclaimed.

§ That's wonderful Sssslaneth! Passsss on my well wisssshessss for me pleasssse. § Harry stated.

§ I sssshall Great One. §

Harry and the garter snake spent the next hour or so talking, or rather- hissing, with each other. But like all things, it had to end eventually.

§ Thissss hassss been fun Sssslaneth. Ssssadly, I have to go make dinner for the fat onessss and the thin one. § Harry explained. § I will sssseee you later friend. §

§ Very well Great One. I will return in a few moonssss. § Slaneth responded, hissing quietly to itself as it left. § I sssstill think I sssshould bite the fat onessss and the thin one. §

Harry was flattered at the garter snake's sentiment. The snakes he met considered offering killing for another to be a high compliment to the person. There wasn't much that could be considered higher really; unless the snake involved was offering mating privileges. Thankfully for Harry's sanity, that hadn't happened. He'd only recently seen girls as anything more than slightly more annoying, and usually thinner versions, of boys.

Now that he had no reason to be in the Dursley's garden- although it should be called his really; since he was the one who kept it in the shape it was- he had every reason to be inside. Cooking dinner for the Dursleys, unless it was some kind of special event- since Petunia would never allow him to cook for those, was the most important chore he was required to do. If he failed to complete it, he'd likely take a punch to the gut from Vernon- as opposed to the slap from Petunia he'd normally receive if he screwed something else up. They had never gone further than that thankfully. It was the classic sense of corporal punishment that was accepted as normal to the older generation, even if it was tuned up a good bit.

As it was, life at the Dursleys was tolerable, if not ideal. Although it would be nice if he could be whisked away somewhere to do something interesting. Not that it would ever happen of course. To escape the Dursleys Harry would likely have to become a lawyer or a doctor; something that paid well at least. It would require a scholarship, which would take a lot of effort, but he was starting to formulate a plan now that he was going to start his first year of high school.

These thoughts shifted around in Harry's head for a few moments as he lifted his belongings off the stump and went to the back door—the place he normally entered the house from when he returned from school. The inside of the house was spotless, with no dust or clutter in sight. The furniture was plain, with an occasional floral pattern on a few things.

He stepped over to the cupboard under the stairs and pulled the door open, tossing his things into the corner nearest the door. This was Harry Potter's, the freak's, room. It extended six feet to the right of the door, was four foot deep, and at its highest was five feet tall. Given his age, the room- if it could be called that- was starting to get quite cramped. He'd had to bin most of his things, which he'd usually taken from Dudley's discard pile upstairs, just to make more room for himself.

Recently he'd heard mutterings from Petunia and Vernon about 'moving the boy' to 'Duddikin's second bedroom' because he was getting taller. Couldn't have the freak getting stuck in the closet, could they?

Harry turned around, sliding the cupboard door shut quietly, and moved to the kitchen. A few minutes later three-and-a-half steaks were cooking (the half was for him), and several potatoes were baking in the oven. As he moved to make a salad for Petunia, because she always ate one with dinner, he noticed his aunt walk into the room.

"Good. You're making dinner." The woman said tersely. "Tomorrow is Duddikin's birthday party. Mrs. Figg can't watch you, she broke her leg apparently, so you're coming with us. You will not do anything freakish to ruin Duddikins trip to the amusement park. Understood?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry droned in annoyance. Couldn't they just let him go to the normal park or the library? It would be much easier for both of them.

"None of that backchat!" She exclaimed angrily. "Vernon will be reminding you in the morning… Just in case you forget."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." The pink-haired teen replied, this time using a smoother tone in an attempt to placate her.

"Good." The woman nodded. "Get back to work."

Harry turned back to making food and heard the woman call from behind him after she started walking away.

"And wear a hat to hide that freakish hair!"

The afore-mentioned freakish hair shifted to purple, along with the boy's eyes, as he muttered obscenities at the horse-like woman under his breath.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

The next day began early for Harry. In fact, it started with a loud knock on his cupboard door.

"Get up freak! You should be making breakfast already!" Vernon ordered loudly.

Harry rolled forward off his bedroll, since that was the only way to get off it quickly, and pulled on a pair of baggy hand me down pants- as well as an equally shoddy t-shirt. He put his glasses on and threw on his ratty trainers. All in all, he was dressed and ready within thirty seconds, so he pulled the door open and went to work.

Twenty minutes later, and Harry had completed a gargantuan amount of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. A third would go to his uncle, another third to his cousin, and a bit over half of the remaining third would go to his aunt. The last portion would be his.

The smell of food must have woken the pig- ahem- Dudley, who clambered down the stairs with all the grace one could expect of an elephant on ice.

"Move it freak! I want my food." Dudley ordered, smacking the back of Harry's currently purple head as he walked by.

Harry's eyebrow twitched in irritation, and his hand moved to douse Dudley's food with pepper. He stopped himself at the last moment, as he realized that it would not be a good idea to prank Dudley… even if it would be fun. Unnoticed by him, his hair- and eyes- shifted to pink. Another few minutes, and the food was on plates- which in turn were on the kitchen table. Harry's, of course, was still on the kitchen counter-top, which was where he normally ate.

His job done, Harry sat and ate- purposefully ignoring whatever the Dursleys were discussing. Once he'd finished eating, Harry began to clean his empty plate. By the time he was done scrubbing, the Dursleys were finished too. As he collected the plates, Vernon stopped him with a meaty palm on his shoulder.

"Boy… Pet already explained, but just to be sure…" Vernon said, squeezing Harry's shoulder painfully. "There will be no… freakishness… today. Understood?"

Harry nodded quickly, eager to escape his uncle's grip and return to cleaning the dishes.

"Good. Finish the dishes and then get a hat. I don't want you drawing attention with that freakish hair you have." The large man ordered.

Harry nodded again, muttering a quiet "Yes Uncle Vernon."

The man released the teen's shoulder and left the room. Harry returned to his chores. Ten minutes later, and Dudley was already squealing about his parents, and his cousin, taking too long.

"Come on! We're meeting Piers and Dennis at Glove World in Twenty minutes!" The… rotund… boy exclaimed impatiently.

Despite Dudley's complaints to the contrary, Harry was ready, having collected an unused baseball cap from the hat rack and his coat. The elder Dursleys were the ones taking too long for Dudley's short waiting tolerance. He tuned the whining boy out with the aid of long practice and instead pondered why an amusement park would be called Glove World of all things.

"What's taking so long?!" The boy whined.

"It's alright Duddikins, it only takes ten minutes to drive to the amusement park." Petunia explained soothingly.

"But Mu-um!" The boy continued.

"Your father will be ready in a few minutes sweetie, don't worry. Maybe we can get you ice cream when we arrive? You are the birthday boy." The woman suggested.

Harry nearly snorted in disgust at Petunia's attempt to placate her son but managed to hold it in. The 'big-boned' boy had ice cream far too often already! He didn't need anymore, nor was it something she could successfully bribe him with; he had plenty of it normally.

"Ice cream?!" The boy exclaimed happily.

"Of course Duddikins," Petunia said with a smile.

Apparently, it was something he could be bribed with.

Dudley nodded so excitedly that his second chin flopped up and down, making an appalling smacking sound that was not unlike a salmon flopping around on wet pavement. Harry mentally sighed at his cousin's stupidity. Wasn't the other boy just as old as him? How could he be so… so simpleminded!?

While Harry was mentally bemoaning his cousin's lack of intelligence, Vernon lumbered into the foyer.

"Alright, let's go." The man said gruffly.

The family all exited the home and clambered into the respectably high-quality sedan that Vernon owned. Harry was forced to sit next to his cousin, who smiled knowingly at him. Car rides with the family were rare because all the places Harry needed to be were almost always within walking distance. The relatively few times he was inside the vehicle was to clean it, or to take part in a Dursley family outing when no one could watch him. Couldn't trust the freak to be alone near valuable items, right?

Whenever Harry was taking part in such an outing, he'd inevitably be an unwilling participant in the 'hit the freak whenever there's a red car' game. Although Dudley sometimes switched it up in the middle of a game and hit Harry when there was a green car, or a blue, and occasionally even a yellow. Really, it was just the 'hit the freak whenever I feel like it' game for Dudley; he just liked to make sure there was something for Harry to look for, and then expect a bruise because of the thing's presence.

Today, it seemed, Dudley had decided that the requirement for a hit was gray cars.

After a wonderfully short car ride, which traversed a distance that Harry thought was more reasonable to walk than to drive, they arrived at the amusement park: Glove World. Harry still didn't know why it was called that, and he wasn't likely going to receive an answer since he had no one to ask.

"Piers! Dennis!" Dudley shouted as he exited the car, running off toward the entrance.

"Come along boy," Vernon muttered. "And no funny business!"

Harry groaned quietly and followed his extended family toward the entrance, and his chief tormentors. Once he got closer to the other boys, Vernon and Petunia headed off to secure tickets. As money was involved, he wasn't allowed to follow the adults, leaving him nearby Dudley and his chief gang members.

"Hey, Dudley!" The thinner, brown-haired boy named Piers exclaimed.

"Dudley!" The taller, and wider, boy named Dennis called.

"How's it going, guys?" Dudley asked the other boys.

"Pretty goo- Hey! Why's the freak here?!" Piers practically shouted.

"My parents couldn't find someone to watch him while we're here. Mum would have a fit if the freak stole something." Dudley explained.

Harry said nothing and looked away. It was better to not engage people that were less intelligent, or needlessly cruel. There was very rarely a benefit to it. If it was an argument, then the stupid person would ignore a logical answer; the needlessly cruel one would make it into a fight, and Harry had no experience actually fighting back.

"What 'sa matter freak? Can't stand lookin' at normal people?" Dennis asked.

"Actually, no," Harry replied smoothly. "In fact, I have a suggestion. I don't like you, and you don't like me. How about I do you a favor, and leave you alone to do whatever Neolithic man does at this kind of place, and you leave me alone in turn."

"The hell is a Neolithic?" Piers muttered.

"Now, why would we want to do that freak? How about, instead, we give you a head start of five minutes once we get in the gates." Dudley suggested with an evil grin.

"I think I'd rather follow my deal. After all… You wouldn't want me to do something §freakisssh§ would you?" Harry threatened, slipping into what he called partial snake-speak. The threat was a bluff, of course, he'd never managed to do any 'freakish' things on purpose, besides snake-speak, but that was only useful as a bluff- or a threat, depending on how you looked at it- in this situation.

All three of the other boys paled slightly and took an involuntary step back.

"D-dad won't stand f-for that! If you do anything, I-I'll tell him, and you'll be sorry!" Dudley stuttered in reply.

"But whatever I did will still be there won't it?" Harry asked suggestively.

"Can he do that?" Dennis whispered fearfully.

"Dunno," Piers muttered.

"Y-you're bluffing!" Dudley stated uncertainly.

"§Try me. §" Harry hissed in partial snake-speak.

All the boys paled even further at Harry's repeated use of snake-speak accenting. The type of sound a snake makes when it hisses is not replicable by the human throat, and thus quite intimidating to human instincts. Even Harry's partial snake speak, which was really just applying the tone and extended 's's of true snake speak to normal speech, was enough to be frightening.

"What's going on here?!" Vernon demanded gruffly as he returned from the ticket-stands.

Harry, who was unwilling to allow his cousin to speak first, instantly replied.

"Nothing Sir. They were just explaining that they didn't want someone like me to be near them while they enjoy the park." He explained.

It was the perfect thing to say to his uncle. In two sentences he'd managed to convey the fact—

regardless of if it was true, since it was believable—that 'Duddikins' didn't want the freak near him during his birthday. Because he had spoken first, he'd managed to add a small amount of credibility to his statement. Dudley, of course, would have said something different, and it would have been too late to manipulate the outcome. This credibility, combined with the missing detail that he was lying, would help trick Vernon into believing that sending the 'freak' off on his own would be the best course of action, as well as what Dudley actually wanted, and thus making him more likely to make that decision.

"Alright boy. Once you get in the park you aren't to get within ten meters of Dudley." Vernon ordered. "But you will not leave my sight. Understood, boy?"

"Clear as crystal, Uncle," Harry replied with a fake smile.

Damn! Better than I expected, but that still wasn't the goal.

Things continued as expected from there. Harry followed the group at a short distance, spectating his cousin- and his cousin's friends- horrible behavior. From sneaking ice cubes they found at the refreshment stands into people's shirts to stealing small glove-shaped trinkets that they could fit in their pockets, they performed a wide range of misdemeanors. It was abhorrent to watch for Harry, especially since he knew he couldn't report any of it to someone. They wouldn't believe him, they never did.

The elder Dursleys ignored it of course, or maybe they really were that blind to their son's faults?

Harry had a policy when it came to stealing: Only do it if the alternative threatened your health noticeably. He'd stolen before in those few instances where he wasn't fed breakfast and Dudley stole his lunch. It was only ever a few dollars, enough for a meal, and he always tried to pay back those he stole from- even though they never noticed the money being returned.

The worst part, in Harry's opinion, was the fact that Dudley and his gang weren't even good at it! They narrowly escaped being caught every time, somehow managing to be in the exact perfect position so that their crime wasn't noticed. It obviously wasn't skill, because if they were skilled at this then they would never be close to caught at all! Despite all these near misses, the dunderheads kept doing it.

The day was rapidly becoming the most tiring day he'd had to endure in months when something interesting finally happened. Dudley's gang had decided on their next destination, the park's scariest ride: The Fiery Fist O' Pain. The adult Dursleys had left to use the bathroom nearby and were no longer watching. At the end of the unusually short line was a sign listing safety information about the ride in big bold lettering. The sign was obviously fake, however, with unusual warnings about explosive diarrhea and violent spine removal. At the bottom of the sign was a large disclaimer stating the sign was a joke (the real safety information was a little further ahead in the line), and part of the ride's motif. Of course, Dudley and his gang didn't notice that.

"A-are you sure you want to go on this one Dudley? It sounds pretty scary to me." Piers simpered fearfully.

"It does s-seem kinda scary ta me Dudley." Dennis agreed.

"I want to go on it!" Dudley said with certainty.

"B-but dude, 'explosive diarrhea!'" Piers stated as if that explained everything. Then again, from the idiot's perspective, it did.

"Wait!" Dennis shouted, putting an arm on Dudley's shoulder to stop the fat boy. "We can make the freak go on it first!"

All three boys spun around and stared at Harry, who was watching at a respectable distance. His eyes widened in surprise and he instantly shook his head. He might not believe the sign, since it was obviously marked as fake, but he wanted no part of a roller coaster like this— he'd never been on one before, and he was sure this was not the one to start with.

"Get over here freak!" Dudley ordered.

"Uncle Vernon said I'm not supposed to be near you, remember?" Harry replied, hoping that was enough to convince the other boy that this was a bad idea.

"We aren't going near you, we'll just watch you go on the ride!" Dudley explained.

"But-" Harry tried to interject.

"Just get on the ride freak!" Dudley shouted. "Or I'll tell mum and dad that you attacked me while they were in the bathroom!"

Shit! Uncle Vernon will lose it if Dudley tells him that. Avoiding something uncomfortable isn't worth what Vernon'll do to me if Dudley lies to him!

With a weary sigh, Harry walked over to the end of the disturbingly short line. After a few minutes of waiting, and enduring the mocking jeers of Dudley's gang, he was at the front of the line- just before a set of seats that looked like they'd seen better days. The ride attendant ushered him, and the other people near him in the line, onto the seats with a yawn.

When Harry was locked into his seat, he heard an odd 'CRACK', come from the lock. The ride attendant, who had music blaring in his earbuds, didn't notice and instead moved on to lock the rest of the seats.

That can't be good.

Harry began to fiddle with the lock, checking to make sure it was actually secure. A few moments of fiddling seemed to be too much for the old lock, which fell apart in his hands. His hair (and eye color) flared purple as his eyes widened in fear. He looked up toward the ride attendant, who was now by the podium that controlled the ride.

"HEY! MY LOCK BR-" He started to shout, just as the attendant slammed his hand down on the button that started the ride.

The single row of seats that made up the carts of the ride shot forward at high speed, slamming Harry back into his seat as the cart tore down the slowly elevating track. The now purple-haired boy gripped the handlebar in front of him so hard that his hands began to ache. Through twists and turns, he held on, even when he felt himself start to lift outside his seat.

Up ahead, he noticed, was the beginning of a loop that led into a large vertical drop.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!

The cart flew up the loop, which was large enough that it started to slow, coming to a near stop at its zenith. Harry, of course, was now hanging out of his seat as he held on for dear life to the old metal handlebar.

"AHHHHHHHH!" He screamed in fear.

Distantly, he was aware of the looks of horror on the other riders, but that wasn't quite as attention-grabbing as hanging out of a cart that was several hundred feet in the air.

The ride didn't stop moving, however, and started to gradually go towards the drop on the other side of the loop. The pace was purposefully slow and was likely meant to build up tension for the riders as they went toward the nearly 90° angle drop. The cart inched closer to the drop as Harry's grip loosened more and more.

Suddenly the cart sped downward after tipping over the edge, slamming the back of his seat into Harry's forearms and knocking him loose.

"SHIIIIIIIII-" He yelled as he fell toward the ground.

Many people seem to think that when your moment of death is speeding toward you like a bullet train, but you have the time to realize it is, that time slows down- or that you see your entire life flash before your eyes. Perhaps that's true, but neither of those things happened to Harry. He simply swore loudly in the several seconds it took for him to make contact with the ground.

BOOM!

He expected to splatter over the sidewalk, or perhaps get impaled on one of the trees beneath the ride, or even explode as he struck dirt. Instead, he barely felt any pain, and the dirt he landed on cratered around him. He tried to stumble to his feet, but fell on his face in exchange for his efforts. While he didn't feel like anything was broken, he felt like he'd been clocked by Dudley full speed, and was barely lucid for a few moments.

"Gnnhh…" He grunted as he spat out some dirt.

The last thing he noticed as his eyes slid shut was people yelling near him and someone calling an ambulance.

Harry woke up several days' later, feeling unnaturally exhausted. The doctors had examined him while he was unconscious, and were astounded to find he wasn't injured beyond a slight concussion. They couldn't explain why he was so tired, but since all their machines agreed with their examinations, they let him go the same day he woke up.

The Dursleys showed up and dragged him home, shoving him into his cupboard instantly with a warning to not do anything so freakish again. Apparently, the fact that whatever his freakishness did to save him from a lethal fall was still bad, despite the results. Maybe they really wanted him dead? No, that couldn't be. They might not like him, but it would be at the very least a nuisance if he died before he moved out of their home. They'd be expected to spend money on a funeral after all, since that was normal, wouldn't they?

He fell asleep quickly even though it was only an hour after lunch.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

The next day he was woken up early and thrust into the kitchen to make breakfast. Harry had merely grunted in annoyance and wiped his bleary eyes before starting to make bacon and eggs. He still felt exhausted, if slightly less so.

After ten minutes of preparation, the food was nearly done. He was just about to start setting it onto plates when a loud knock erupted from the front door.

"Get the door, boy! It should be today's paper!" Vernon ordered.

"Don't blame me if the bacon burns then, Uncle Vernon." He muttered indignantly, knowing that it would happen no matter what he said.

The man either didn't hear Harry's comment, or he chose to ignore it. Either way, Harry went to the door just a little faster. He didn't want to test his uncle's patience any further, so he opened the door.

"Hello. You must be Mr. Potter." The elderly lady in front of him said.

The woman was dressed in a black dress with a grey suit jacket over the top. She had blue eyes and grey, wispy hair pulled back into a bun. The stranger had a serious look about her, and was clearly not someone to annoy.

"Yes?" Harry replied reflexively.

"May I come in? I have a letter for you that I'm sure your family informed you of." She requested.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the woman.

"What letter?" He asked in disbelief. He'd never received and mail before, and he didn't think he would for several more years- when he'd need to start paying his own bills.

The old woman's eyes widened slightly and the corner of her mouth twitched downward. Most people wouldn't have caught it, but Harry was used to looking for subtle clues in people's expressions. It was a necessary skill if he wanted to know who was trustworthy and who wasn't.

"The Dursleys didn't tell you?" She said, asking for confirmation.

"Tell me what?" Harry replied.

The woman shook her head and sighed. After a moment, she looked back up and stared into Harry's eyes intensely.

"Have you ever had odd things happen to you or those around you? Things you can't explain?" The old woman asked seriously. Harry nodded hesitantly.

"That is because you are not a normal person…" She explained softly. "You're a mage, Harry."

"…What...?"

"Do you find it hard to believe?" The woman questioned.

"Err…"

"It's quite understandable Mr. Potter, most people raised by muggles have that issue." She stated.

"BOY! THE BACON BURNT! WHAT'S TAKING SO LONG?!" Vernon shouted from inside.

The woman looked up sharply at the noise.

"Your… Uncle… I presume?" She asked.

"Unfortunately ma'am," Harry replied candidly.

"Call me Professor McGonagall Mr. Potter, that's what you'll be calling me if you come to Hogwarts this year." She ordered.

"Hogwarts..?" Harry muttered.

McGonagall smiled slightly as she replied. "A school for mages, like yourself."

"BOY!" Vernon interrupted as he stepped into the foyer. He stopped as soon as he caught sight of McGonagall, instantly pulling up his polite façade. "Hello? May I help you?"

"My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I'm here to deliver Mr. Potter's Hogwarts letter. The one you were informed of when we left him here." She said, introducing herself.

"Left me here…?" Harry muttered in confusion.

Vernon's face purpled in rage and he opened his mouth to say something at a volume that the whole city would likely hear, then stopped himself as he realized that wouldn't be "normal."

"Well take him then!" Vernon whispered fiercely. "Obviously we couldn't stamp the freakishness out of him, so you can keep him! Don't bother trying to take him back! We won't let any of your freakish kind in!"

The rotund man punctuated his words by slamming the door in both of their faces.

"Is your uncle normally like that?" The professor asked.

Harry nodded once absentmindedly. He was too focused on the fact that he was apparently left with the Dursleys to redirect his attention immediately.

"What now Professor?" He asked after a few moments of awkward silence. "Uncle Vernon seemed quite serious just now."

"We will go to a… café? Is that what they're called? Regardless, someplace you can have something to eat, where I will explain what you need to know about your heritage." She stated, before adding disdainfully. "Obviously these muggles didn't inform you of anything."

"I… Yes. That sounds like a good idea." Harry said, dazed. He'd never heard anyone dislike the Dursleys before! They always thought they were 'perfectly good, normal people' or just ignored their occasionally rude behavior.

Besides, she offered food and Harry was a teenager, they eat a lot.

So the currently purple-haired boy was whisked away by the old woman, completely forgetting his tiredness in the confusion. For whatever reason, just being near her rejuvenated him. He tried to ask a few questions during their walk, but the woman had simply hushed him; stating that he would receive his answers soon enough. Finally, the duo arrived at a somewhat upscale café, where the woman ordered tea for herself and a breakfast sandwich for Harry. When she reached to pay, she pulled out an odd leather bag from an unseen pocket before realizing it wasn't what she was looking for, then put it away- replacing it with a normal wallet that had seen better days.

They both sat down with their purchases, and the woman urged him to eat. He had initially waited for her to begin, as was his habit with his relatives.

"You look as if you could use the meal, Mr. Potter. Eat." McGonagall ordered in a terrifying tone that brooked no disobedience. "We can talk after you have your food."

It took him very little time to tear through his sandwich, seeing as he hadn't had proper food in far too long. Hospital food did not count.

"Can you start explaining Professor? I'm done eating now." Harry asked politely.

"One moment Mr. Potter, I must secure our conversation from being overheard first." She replied.

The old woman lifted her right hand, causing the sleeve to slip downward and reveal an old-looking but elegantly made bead bracelet—the kind that people add charms to. The bracelet was made of mostly golden beads with a few made of some dark red material that Harry didn't recognize. McGonagall made a few elegant twirls with her fingers, which began to glow at their tips as the complexity increased. A few moments later and the woman's hand was making such complicated motions that Harry's eyes could no longer follow them.

Then it stopped.

A barely visible shimmering white wall appeared around the table the duo was sitting at. It looked similar to the distortion heat added to air more than anything else.

"To start," McGonagall began, startling Harry with the sudden sound. "Do you have any specific questions, Mr. Potter? If not, I will simply describe things as I would to a typical person in your situation."

Harry shook his head. While he had questions, they could wait until the end. From what he could tell of the woman so far, she would likely prefer going about this the normal way, and his questions were definitely not standard. After all, asking why you were left with a family that hates you is an… unusual… question for a professor.

"Very well. To start with, magic exists—as you likely saw just now with the light coming from my fingertips. There is an entire society for magic users like yourself and I, who all live separately from the muggles—those without magic. About four hundred years ago, a brilliant mage, whose name was lost to time, discovered something so fantastical that it took magical society by storm. An actual world of magic." McGonagall explained.

Harry's mouth opened reflexively to ask a question but quickly shut it when the woman glared at him. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to interrupt?

"With the help of some of the brightest minds of the time, he managed to open a portal to this new world, and people began to explore it. It was discovered that the density of magic there was so much higher there when compared to this world's that it was gradually strengthening those who lived there. Soon after, the majority of magical society emigrated there. Now, there are few mages living on Earth and none that grow up here. That is, of course, excluding those we call Offworlders, who are magicals born to muggle parents here on Earth." She continued. "Before you try to interrupt me again Mr. Potter, no your parents were not muggles, they were mages. You are… a special case."

Harry nodded slowly at that, willing to postpone the barrage of questions that came to mind until the woman finished her explanation. He had decided to wait until the end of her explanation after all, and it wouldn't be healthy to see what she would do to him if he pissed her off.

"As a result of this odd aberration in magical births, we have installed a system on Earth that reports when magical children have reached the age of thirteen so we can invite them to a magical school on Mundus Magicus, or as most call it now—Earthland. I am currently here to give you your letter, and to collect a promising Offworlder who happens to live near you. She had her birthday somewhat earlier than you, and received her letter prior. We will be going to Earthland to collect your school supplies, and to acclimate you to the denser ambient magic. That is, of course, if you agree to attend Hogwarts- which is the greatest school of magic in existence. So much so, that the original was taken through a specially made portal to preserve it." McGonagall finished.

To put it simply, Harry was stunned, absolutely stunned. What does one say to something like that? Harry sat in silence for a moment, thinking about whether this was a good idea. Part of him logically knew that this couldn't possibly be true, right? The other was certain he needed to go; that he would regret his decision for the rest of his life if he didn't take this chance. He didn't think for long, however, and his hair shifted to pink, as he knew he had reached a logical decision. Not much could be worse than the Dursleys, especially since he was kicked out recently.

"I'd like to go." He stated.

The woman nodded absentmindedly and stared curiously at his hair.

"What just happened to your hair, Mr. Potter? Were you aware of it?" She asked.

"You, you can see it? No one has ever noticed it, just said the color was weird regardless of which of the two it was." Harry questioned.

"Two?" The woman muttered before shaking her head. "Never mind that, for now, Mr. Potter. We can have Madam Pomfrey check you when you arrive at school in a week's time. Do you have any belongings that you need before we leave? It seems that you might not be returning anytime soon if your Uncle's statement was truthful."

"Yes Professor, I have all my important things with me." He answered to the old woman's raised eyebrow.

"Everything indeed…" She muttered too quietly for him to hear.

"Very well. Let us depart." McGonagall ordered, flicking her hand out, which shattered the odd barrier.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

Hermione Granger was vibrating with excitement. Today was the day that she would finally visit Earthland!

When the unusually dressed, and quite admittedly intimidating man who introduced himself as Professor Snape had shown up at her door a week ago and informed her of magic's existence, she could scarcely believe him. Even when he levitated a few things she was looking for the wires. When he'd turned the coffee table into a German Shephard however…

Suffice it to say, she and her family were believers now.

From there, the man had given them an extended description of the "Magical World," describing both its advantages and some seriously scary disadvantages. There were no telephones, no television, few vehicles, and a multitude of other things that a modern person would be deprived of in Earthland. Despite that, Hermione could not wait to go there. There were so many things to learn! How did magic work? Why did it work? How did one cast a spell? How is a spell defined?

Suffice it to say, she was nearly gibbering with excitement. Of course, she was quite upset when she learned she would have to wait a week before she could go and visit the place she knew she'd be learning at for the next seven years; her parents had no say in the matter, she would be going there. Besides, they never really had time for her at home normally, how would a boarding school in another world be any different?

So, when she learned that her parents wanted to come with to collect her school supplies, which they couldn't when Professor Snape arrived, the trip had been delayed. Now, after a week of annoying her parents to death with her hypothetical, and unanswerable, questions; it was finally the day that she would visit this new world, and more importantly, obtain her school supplies. According to the professor, one of his colleagues would be showing up to collect her at noon.

Every time she heard a sound, Hermione would stand up and check the door. She had been doing this since ten 'o' clock, and her parents were getting more and more impatient with her excited behavior.

"Pumpkin, calm down. They'll be here soon. You don't need to check the door every time the washing machine shakes a bit." Dan, her father, ordered.

"But daddy-" she began.

"No buts. The representative will arrive when they arrive. Look for them when you see them." He replied.

"Did you just paraphrase Gandalf at me, daddy?" Hermione huffed.

The man smiled a bit as he replied. "It seemed appropriate pumpkin. After all, we are about to meet another Wizard."

"They call themselves 'mages' honey," Hermione's mother, Annabelle, interjected. "Professor Snape was quite particular about that. Wizard and Witch have very different connotations in their society."

"Ah, I'd forgotten. Thank you." Dan responded.

DING!

"They're here!" Hermione exclaimed happily, rushing to the door at top speed.

"Wait for us pumpkin!" Her father ordered.

It was too late, however, as Hermione had already reached the door. She yanked it open with shaking fingers and beamed out the door. In front of her was a well-dressed, serious looking, old-woman. Next to her was a boy, dressed in what even a generous person would describe as rags, had a boyish face, and long (for a boy) pink hair. Either the hair was dyed, or he was as unfortunate as Hermione was, who had oddly orangey-brown hair of similar intensity to the boy's.

"Hello. Are you from Hogwarts?" She asked as politely as she could through her excitement.

"Yes, I am Professor McGonagall. You are Ms. Granger I presume?" The woman replied.

Hermione nodded eagerly as her parents stepped up behind her.

"Hello, you're from Hogwarts?" Hermione's mother asked.

McGonagall nodded in reply. "I am the Professor of transfiguration and basic caster magicks at Hogwarts. My name is Minerva McGonagall."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Hermione's father, Dan, and this is my wife, Ann." Hermione's father responded.

"Who're you?" Hermione interjected, gesturing toward the odd boy.

"Harry Potter. I got my letter today, and will be coming along with you. Feel free to ignore me." The boy explained.

Hermione frowned a bit at his comment and general lack of enthusiasm. They were going to be seeing magic and breaking all known laws of space-time soon, didn't he care? Just as she was about to open her mouth to mention his seeming boredom, Professor McGonagall decided to break up the awkward silence that had arisen.

"Let's get moving then, we have limited time to get there." She ordered. "Would you prefer I take you to the gate personally, or use your vehicle? The former is more efficient, but I will warn you the first time you experience it, it can be quite uncomfortable."

"What exactly does that option entail Professor McGonagall?" Dan asked uncertainly.

"To put it in Layman's terms, I utilize magic to create a somewhat unstable portal to our destination. By unstable, I mean that it is a literally shaky experience, not that it risks collapsing on itself." The Professor explained.

"Ah." Dan muttered. "I think I'd prefer driving, thank you."

"Very well." The Professor agreed.

Dan led the group out toward the driveway, where everyone clambered into the high-quality sedan. Harry wound up next to Hermione, who was in the middle, with Professor McGonagall to their left. It was somewhat cramped in the vehicle, but they made due.

"So, where too?"

"I believe you Brits call it… Big Ben?"

After the shock wore off, which took a few minutes for the Granger family—Big Ben held the portal to another world?!— the group sped off toward London proper, which was an hour away from the suburban zone of Surrey. The trip was rather awkward, as Hermione kept trying to ask questions about Earthland. The Professor answered many of the questions, but refused to answer any on how magic actually worked. Apparently, they'd learn many of those answers during their time at Hogwarts, but some of Hermine's questions were advanced enough that they'd only be covered if she tried to be a magical researcher or apprenticed to a master mage. In addition, her father would regularly add in a few of his own questions as well, but they were often more directed toward how things were done in Earthland.

Harry however simply sat in silence, staring out the window as the suburbs blurred by and slowly twisted into a cityscape. He paid attention to a few of Hermione's or her father's questions, and learned that the name of the place they were going for their supplies was called 'Diagon Alley.' The alley was apparently known as the traditional place for Hogwarts students to shop for their school supplies, and as such was one of the largest magical shopping districts in Fiore.

That, of course, led to more questions from Hermione. Fiore was apparently one of the kingdoms in Earthland, specifically the one that Hogwarts resided within. It was known as the most magically advanced kingdom, if not the most technologically or socially advanced of the bunch. For example, there was a country called Pergrande that was known for its metal.

Hermione then began rattling off questions about the other countries that shared a continent with Fiore, but Harry began to tune out the conversation when he realized there was no active warfare being waged at the time. He had other things he wanted to think about, and the rather boring questions the bookish girl was asking were starting to grate. Honestly, who cared about the capitals of a country that neither of them had even seen.

Now he was simply contemplating the sudden drastic change that had occurred in his life over the past few hours. It was rather surprising. He'd begun the morning exhausted and he couldn't fathom a life outside the Dursley home. Now, he was somehow no longer tired, free of his relatives, and on his way to learn about a school of magic.

"What system of government runs Fiore?" Hermione asked, breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

This question was important enough to end his inner dialogue.

"It is an unusual combination of monarchy and republic. Somewhat similar to the Romans under Caesar's rule. We have a king who is the ultimate authority with his advisors, the Wizengamot, and the lesser courts that run the day-to-day of the country." McGonagall stated.

"A monarchy?!" Hermione nearly screeched.

The girl was rather uncomfortable with that apparently. Harry on the other hand, didn't really care. The Dursleys were his ultimate authority before today, how would a monarchy be any different? If anything, it would be better, since he wouldn't have someone breathing down his neck about his behavior.

Hermione calmed down quickly when the Professor frowned at her.

"Is there a problem with that Ms. Granger?" She asked.

"Well… I-"

"Because I seem to remember that Great Britain is also a monarchy."

"But that's not the same!" Hermione practically cried.

"Hermione!" Dan interrupted, "Be polite!"

The girl ducked her head, cheeks pink with shame.

"Sorry daddy." She muttered.

"Thank you, but I believe you should apologize to your professor. Didn't we teach you to not jump to conclusions about subjects you haven't gathered information about? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was quite correct when he said, 'It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts.'"

Hermione perked up a bit at the book reference, no longer quite as upset. She turned to the professor, who's one eyebrow was slightly raised in expectation.

"I'm sorry professor, I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"You are forgiven Ms. Granger," the woman replied. "I recommend you remember that quote, it is very wise."

The girl nodded avidly and then returned to rattling off more questions. It was at this point that Harry tuned out of the conversation again. There was no longer a point in listening, as Hermione's questions had again defaulted back to what Harry considered useless drivel.

The drive lasted another half an hour, ending when they pulled into a public parking garage and rented a spot for the day. The group was clambering out of the vehicle when Ann spoke up. "How are we going to get into Big Ben? We're definitely not on the waitlist for a tour, and there's at least an eight month backlog as of a few weeks ago."

"Waitlist?" McGonagall began in confusion. "Well, I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean. However, we won't be entering through the muggle entrance. Simply follow me."

Hermione's parents seemed somewhat unsure, but the group followed without any complaints. They left the parking garage, and walked down the bustling sidewalk, taking several turns that eventually led them to the famous clock-tower. They approached the building, but instead of walking toward the entrance, they walked around the side of the landmark, coming to a stop in front of an unseen wall of the building.

The Professor lifted her right hand up as her index finger began to glow a warm red color, emitting an odd smoke-like cloud of the same hue. She reached out to the wall and tapped several different bricks in an obviously ordered pattern. As soon as the last brick was pressed, the wall folded backward, revealing a hidden stairway. McGonagall began walking down the steps, but soon turned around when she noticed the rest of the group had remained immobile, choosing instead to stare at the wall.

"Well come along then! We have a schedule to keep." She ordered the group.

"R-Right…" Dan muttered.

They all followed the Professor down the stairs, which ended about forty feet ahead and thirty feet deeper than their zenith. The steps were mostly clean, but had dust creeping onto their sides and near the bottom of the walls. The stairwell was mostly lit by the sunlight at their backs and whatever was emitting blue light past the landing.

Once they reached the bottom, the Granger's collectively gasped. Harry did as well, causing his hair to shift to purple.

Directly in front of them was a large stone archway that looked somehow older than anything Harry had ever heard of, yet more solid and well-built as well. Stonehenge and the Parthenon had nothing on this. In front of the archway was a large railing that was as tall as the arch, complete with a shimmering silver curtain that was pulled to the left side. The most impressive thing however, was the blue wall of light in the center of the arch. It was so bright it should have hurt to look at, but it simply… didn't.

"Wh-what is it?" Hermione asked, utterly dumbfounded.

"This, is what was formerly known as the Veil of Death," McGonagall said quietly, and almost reverently. "Now, we know better. This was the first portal discovered between Earth and Mundus Magicus. It was revolutionary when the Wizard who figured this out gave his proofs. Until then, every single mage thought that that this was a portal to the afterlife, and that all souls went through it after they reached the end of their fate."

Harry gulped nervously, which drew the attention of the group, excluding Hermione, who was still staring at the arch in awe.

"Does your hair do that often Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked. "As I recall, it switched to pink at the café, and now it's returned to purple."

Harry flushed slightly. No one ever commented on the change! This was the second time McGonagall had noticed it, did something change?

"Err… Kinda. Whenever I do something stupid it switches to purple. It goes back to pink whenever I do something smart, or… cunning I guess. Although sometimes it seems to just switch for no reason." He explained.

"Really?" The Professor asked. "And there's never any other colors?"

"No Professor." He responded.

Hermione finally shook herself out of her awe and turned back to Harry, noticing his hair.

"What're you all ta- Your hair! What happened?!" The girl exclaimed.

"It seems Mr. Potter might be some form of Metamorphmagus Ms. Granger," The Professor began. "Which means he has some amount of instinctual control over how he looks. To what degree however remains to be seen. It is a rather rare, and exclusively inborn talent, and is unfortunately unlearn-able for the rest of us. Yes, before you ask, you can still do similar things with magic Ms. Granger, it is simply harder and less permanent."

"Well that is fascinating!" Dan exclaimed.

Before he could begin a question spree similar to his daughter's, as seemed likely, Ann spoke up. "Can we go through this portal now? It's rather cold in here, and I'd quite like to see this Diagon Alley."

Dan stopped almost mid-word, turning instead to look at his wife. He released a small laugh at her comment, and then agreed with her. "Yes, it is quite cold here."

"Very well. Let's move on." The Professor agreed. "Grangers, please go first, I need a private word with Harry.

The group stepped forward toward the vertical blue pool of energy, and with no small amount of trepidation the Grangers stepped through, disappearing into the energy. McGonagall turned toward Harry, and brought her right hand out of its sleeve, in a similar posture to when she cast her spell at the café.

"I will give you a longer explanation later Mr. Potter, likely when we're finding overnight accommodations, but I ask that you accept what I'm about to tell you at face value." She began.

Harry nodded uncertainly.

"You are quite famous in our world due to the circumstances of your parents' death. Earthland, primarily Fiore, was enduring a civil war when you were born. The enemy leader was a terrible man who decided to put an end to some of his chief resistors, your parents. He was a terrifyingly powerful man, and he killed you parents on Halloween a year after you were born. For some reason, however, his signature spell— a spell that has never failed to kill once it hit someone—failed to kill you, giving you your scar and instead ended the man. For this reason, the populace of our world knows you as the Boy-Who-Lived, and everyone will recognize your face." McGonagall explained.

"W-what?!" Harry cried in shock.

"Please Harry, save your reaction for later, when I explain in more depth. For now, that is enough," The Professor stated. "The reason I mention it is I doubt you'd like to be mobbed by crowds everywhere you go today, so I am offering to place a disguise spell of sorts on you for the duration of our excursion today."

"Y-yes please." Harry stuttered. He'd seen how celebrities were treated on the telly, he did not want that.

"This spell will only keep people from recognizing you as Harry Potter. You will still look the same, and anything you do that draws a significant amount of attention will cancel the spell's affect. The spell is called a 'Notice-Me-Not' in case you want to look it up in your textbooks." She said as she did a few simple motions with her hand, ending the sequence with a tap to Harry's forehead.

When her finger tapped his forehead he felt an oddly… itchy? Yes, he felt an itchy feeling roll across his skin.

"There, it is done." The Professor stated. "Let's go through."

Harry rubbed his shoulders and arms in an attempt to remove the itchy feeling. To his annoyance, nothing he did would remove it. Moments later, they stepped through the portal. As soon as he stepped through, Harry was surrounded by more colors than he'd ever seen in person. Every single one of them was somehow deeper than it was on Earth, and they were definitely more creatively used than Privet Drive. The massive Atrium he now found himself standing in was richly furnished and designed in a style reminiscent of the greatest roman cathedrals. Lining the walls was similar, but far newer seeming stone arches that varied in coloring. Each arch had a blue portal inside, although some were differently positioned within their arch than others. Every few seconds a person or two would pop out from the various gates, and would then be quickly checked by actual knights.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes, actual knights—in full plate armor even! — were acting as security.

Standing about twenty feet in front of them was the Granger's, who were being examined by a noticeably larger group of knights. (Do knights have a name for a group of themselves? Like A murder of Crows?) Apparently the magical world had customs, just like muggle airports do. Several knights approached Harry and McGonagall, who pulled out a small piece of parchment and held it up in front of them. The knights instantly waved them forward while the knights who'd been examining the Grangers stepped away.

"Good day to you Professor. Sorry about the holdup." The knight said.

From there the group walked through a series of expensively decorated hallways that maintained the same standards as the portal room. Throughout the journey the group was watched closely by the knights, who regularly seemed to focus on Harry's forehead for a moment before suddenly looking elsewhere or realizing they'd forgotten something. McGonagall's spell seemed to be holding.

Upon exiting the building they were met by a massive sprawling stone pathway. Easily a hundred meters across, the pathway was filled from edge to edge with people—each dressed in some degree of odd clothing. Some were dressed in the kind of thing you'd expect at a Ren Faire, tweed shirts and baggy pants over leather boots, while others were dressed like a stereotypical wizard, a small subset of which had animated patterns shifting and twirling through their robes. The last group was the most unique, the outliers. Each was utterly different than the next, and as such were the least common group. Many of them seemed to have found a 'set' or pattern of clothing/gear that suited them and stuck to it.

The most notable thing, to Harry at least, was the variety of hair colors present. Many had vibrant hair that rivaled his own in oddness. Some had red hair the color of a stop sign, others had hair greener than grass, a few had blue hair, and some even mixed colors together in strips! Harry's hair, it seemed, would not be something that stood out in this world.

The sides of the path were littered with shops, which were equally varied in appearance as the populace. Some were wooden, some metal, and some seemed to defy the laws of physics—occasionally inverting gravity or switching position every few minutes. All in all, it was the most fantastical sight Harry had ever seen.

He never wanted to leave.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley." McGonagall said with an uncharacteristic smile.

"I-It's amazing!" Dan exclaimed as his wife and daughter echoed the sentiment.

"Where are we going first?!" Hermione added excitedly.

"Gringotts," The Professor answered. "The goblin bank."

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

Gringotts was a fascinating place Hermione decided. The goblins were such a completely new experience that Hermione still didn't know what she thought of them. They were obviously sentient—they could think, therefore they were—but they had some obvious traits that were mostly seen in animals. The sharpened teeth meant for eating raw meat, the sensitive noses (the goblin had mentioned they stink of petrol), and the way they automatically assessed everything that walked in front of them as threats… well, it painted a confusing picture when contrasted with the suits they dressed in, the small glasses most of them wore, and their impeccable manners.

Once the group had entered the large stone bank they'd been met with armored goblins standing along the walls, massive lines, and the extravagant chandelier that hung from the massive ceiling. The desks at the other end of the building could be barely seen, until the Professor had walked them straight past all the lines and to a smaller desk that had a lone goblin seated behind it. He'd initially looked up and glared at Harry—who seemed to be finally showing an interest in the magic around him—before noticing the Professor, causing the little being to stop instantly.

"Greetings Teller," The Professor began. "I have a family of Offworlders for you to introduce to our monetary system, and an… unusual client that I wish to bring to his family's vault. I apologize for entering Gringotts with a spell on the boy, but it was necessary to avoid drawing undue attention."

"Very well. Your explanation is tentatively accepted Client. I will have a Cart-Goblin bring your disguised party member to their vault. I trust you have their key?" The Teller responded.

The Professor nodded in reply.

"Very well," The Teller stated as he reached over and tapped an unusual pattern on his desk. It looked almost like an ancient Norse rune, like Hermione had seen on the history channel.

'Are runes a form of magic?' Hermione added to her mental checklist.

"As for you," The Teller began, staring at the Grangers. "I will explain how Mage currency works, as well as exchange some of your Earth currency into real money."

"Real money?" Hermione piped up before she could stop herself.

The goblin turned and glared at her, the relaxed smirk that had been on his face gaining a hint of tooth to it.

"Do not interrupt me broodling," It nearly snarled. "And yes, your off world money is not worth the paper it's printed on, it has no gold or silver in it. In this world, we actually have valuable materials in our money, and it is all in the shape of coins. Galleons, worth about fifty of your near-worthless Pounds, Sickles, seventeen of which make up a Galleon, and Knuts, nineteen of which make up a Sickle."

"Ah, well thank you Sir." Dan interjected in an attempt to appease the Goblin. It only seemed to make it worse.

"Would you like to exchange your paper for gold, or would you like to continue to insult me Human?" It grunted.

"We'd like to exchange our money please" Ann said quickly.

"Very well." The Teller stated.

The Grangers then began to exchange their money, although there seemed to be a higher exchange rate than there should have been—60 Pounds per galleon instead of 50—which they simply ignored. They didn't want to annoy the Teller further.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

While the Grangers were learning about human/goblin communication, Harry and McGonagall were led down a series of stone hallways, ending in a small tunnel that was filled with rough rock. On the floor was a long strip of sturdy metal rail, upon which was an equally sturdy mine cart. The track led out of the tunnel into a massive cavern that was filled with crisscrossing tracks that went in patterns complicated enough to give Harry flashbacks to the amusement park.

"In the cart." The Goblin ordered.

McGonagall stepped into the cart first, then motioned for Harry to join her. The purple-haired boy stepped in after her, and quickly held tight to the side of the cart. He was not going to deal with a repeat of the roller coaster. The Goblin stepped in after them, shutting the cart door after it.

"Key?" The Goblin asked.

Without a word, McGonagall pulled an ornate golden key out of one of her pockets. The key had spokes coming off it in every direction, and seemed very important. On the handle was a pattern reminiscent of a Coat of Arms, with a shield that had an oddly designed pot in its center. The Goblin's eyes jumped open in shock, and it went to grab it from McGonagall's hand. The Professor stopped it before I could, and gave it a glare so cold it could put out the sun.

"You have no right to handle the key cart-goblin. You know a forged key cannot be brought onto Gringotts' soil, so you have no need to confirm it is real either." She stated.

The Goblin frowned, but said nothing. Instead, it turned around and pulled a lever, sending the mine cart shooting down the track faster than the roller coaster Harry had went on previously. The wind resistance slammed Harry into the back of the cart, while McGonagall and the Goblin remained unmoved.

'I wonder how they do that?' He thought as he nursed his newly forming bruise.

The cart sped off, sliding across the rails in confusing patterns, and occasionally switching tracks entirely. The ride was fantastic for Harry, mainly because he didn't get flung out of the cart, but it was still quite a thrilling experience. Unfortunately, in Harry's opinion at least, the ride ended far too soon—after a mere minute in fact.

The cart came to a sudden halt in front of a small circular stone door, reminiscent of the Hobbit holes Harry had heard some of the kids at his school (former school?) describe. In the center of what he presumed must be a vault door was a large engraving of the number 692. The Goblin opened the cart door, letting McGonagall and Harry exit the vehicle.

They walked toward the door, which had nowhere for a key to go on its surface. Just as Harry was about to comment on that fact, the Professor held the key up to the door vertically. The key began to glow, and a moment later the door swung open. Inside was several well-ordered stack of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.

"Take this," McGonagall ordered as she offered a leather pouch to Harry. "I recommend you split the types of currency that you put in the bag into thirds."

Harry accepted the bag and went about doing exactly that. A few minutes and a now filled pouch later, Harry was ready to leave. McGonagall pulled out the vault key and handed it to him as they left the room itself. The stone door swung shut behind them, causing a loud thunk to ring out in the cavern.

"Be very careful with the key Mr. Potter. If anyone gets their hands on it, they can access your trust vault. I suggest you keep it in the money pouch until we get you a trunk later today."

Harry nodded in reply as he slipped the key into the pouch.

Once the Grangers were finished being fleeced, and Harry collecting his funds, the group left the bank. They spent the next several hours collecting the more mundane school supplies, if adder fang or salamander blood could be considered mundane. Their first stop had been at the trunk store, where Harry had purchased a mid-tier model that was more than secure enough for anything he'd encounter at school. McGonagall had nearly told him it was unnecessary, but had stopped herself when she realized it was where he'd be storing everything he owned.

They'd then proceeded to get their potions ingredients and tools, which were quite interesting to Harry. Potions seemed a lot like cooking to him, but from what the Professor had informed him in the shop it was simply superficial similarity. Next on the list had been their textbooks. Hermione had been practically giddy at the idea of going to a bookstore, until she was informed they were simply going to a specific shop that sold only their textbooks, and that she could browse the book catalogs at home if she wished to. There was a mail system that went between Earth and Mundus Magicus just for that purpose.

McGonagall recognized a Bibliophile when she saw one, and the whole Granger family seemed to qualify, even if it was to varying degrees.

After they'd obtained their First Year textbooks, they'd gone to obtain their uniforms. According to McGonagall, their uniforms—which happened to be black robes—were meant to be worn over whatever tasteful clothing they desired. They were simply there to label them as a Hogwarts student, not to constrain them in any fashion.

Upon entering the robe shop, Hermione was led to the women's side so she could be fitted, while Harry was led to the men's side. The floor of the room he entered was covered in smooth brown carpeting and had several elevated platforms on the far wall. Each platform was surrounded by a tall semi-circle of mirrors. Most of the platforms were empty, with the exception of the one on the far right.

On the far right platform was a tallish boy of Harry's age, who had pure white hair that had clearly been coifed quite carefully and a thin aristocratic face. He was dressed in blue trousers and a matching shirt. When Harry was told to stand on the platform to the boy's left, said boy turned his head to stare at Harry. Eyes that were full of curiosity and the color of ice stared into bright purple orbs.

"Hello. I don't recognize you." The boy said in a voice that matched his face. High-pitched and noble.

"Err, I'm Harry. Nice to meet you," Harry replied uncomfortably. The male attendant had set a measuring tape out, which floated over to Harry and began measuring him on its own.

"Harry what?" The boy asked. "Oh never mind. It's not like you matter. If I don't recognize you, then you can't be anyone of importance."

Harry stared at the other boy, dumbfounded for a moment. He was tempted to do… well do something to the boy, even if he couldn't think of something at the moment. He refrained from doing anything, and his hair and eyes shifted to pink to reflect his decision. The other boy didn't notice, as he'd glanced down at his own measuring tape for a moment, smacking it away when it nearly touched his face.

"Stupid system. If only father hadn't said this place was the traditional place to get Hogwarts robes. Twillfitt and Tattings is much better…" He muttered.

The silence stretched on for a few minutes, and eventually Harry spoke up.

"Why would you have known who I was?" He asked.

The other boy turned slowly, and smirked at Harry arrogantly. Harry had the sudden urge to wipe that smirk off the boy's face, but stopped himself… again.

"Why, because I'm Draco Malfoy of course! The heir to the greatest Ice Make mages in the world! My aunt Ur single-handedly took down a demon from the Book of Z- of the Black Wizard." The boy stated. He seemed upset for a very short moment when he said his aunt's name, but the look disappeared near instantly.

"Oh." Harry replied. "I suppose that's impressive then?"

The smug look disappeared off of Draco's face, satisfying Harry immensely, and a look of absolute confusion appeared for a moment.

"How could you not- Wait, you're an Outsider, aren't you?" He spat.

Harry reared back in shock at the sheer vitriol in Draco's voice. It was so unexpected from the previously calm, if arrogant boy.

"Well then, I have no reason to speak with you gadoue." He stated, spinning back into position.

It was an awkward few minutes until Draco's measurements were done, which was the only thing keeping him from leaving. Harry's measurement lasted two minutes longer than Draco's and he was out of the shop soon after. Hermione had begun excitedly asking McGonagall about the magic behind the measuring tape, but Harry tuned her out, instead focusing on the last few minutes.

'Why was he so disgusted by a stranger?' He thought in confusion.

Harry's attention was brought back to reality some time later, when the group stopped in front of a dingy wooden shop labelled 'Ollivander's.' The outside of the shop seemed ancient and unkempt, and the windows were boarded up. The only thing that suggested it was an open shop was the smaller brand-new sign on the door that listed the hours that it was open.

"What is this place?" Hermione asked.

"Ollivander's, the greatest Gaunt shop in Earthland." The Professor replied.

"Gaunt?" Ann interjected curiously.

"A mage's magical focus. It is used as a tool to cast all of our non-personal magicks, which we call 'Holder Magick.' The magic one casts with a Gaunt is called 'Caster Magick.' Modern Gaunts are bracelets, similar to mine. Old Gaunts, which were used mostly before Magical Society's transition to Earthland, were called wands, and were sticks of wood about the length of their user's forearm." McGonagall explained.

"How fascinating." Dan muttered.

"The process wherein one's Gaunt chooses them, as the 'Gaunt chooses the mage' if you believe Ollivander, is rather personal. So I recommend that you go in either before or after Harry, not at the same time. If you wish, I can direct you toward a nearby bookshop while he gets his Gaunt." The Professor suggested.

"Ooh! Harry can go first, just tell us where the bookshop is!" Hermione exclaimed.

Both of the elder Grangers sighed at that. Their funds were rather depleted already, and a visit to the bookshop would not be healthy for their purse strings.

"Very well," The Professor said. "Mr. Potter, enter the shop. I will direct them to the bookshop then wait outside of Ollivander's until you have a Gaunt. We will then meet with the Granger's at the bookshop, and Ms. Granger will get her Gaunt."

Harry nodded once then spun on his heel, walking into the building.

The inside of the building was nearly as decrepit as the outside, but was far cleaner. The floor was covered in shelves, each with a several awkwardly stacked rows of differently sized boxes. Each box was different than the one next to it, but was usually somewhat similar to one several stacks over. Harry took a few more steps into the building, looking around for Ollivander.

"Hello there." A voice said from behind him.

Harry spun around instantly, hands raised in a defensive manner. When the hit he'd instinctually expected didn't come, he slowly lowered his arms and stared at the man that was now in front of him. He was tall, with dark brown hair that was greying with age. He was dressed in a dark leather overcoat, with a white dress shirt underneath. His tan slacks were held up by suspenders that clung to his slight belly. The man's face was starting to wrinkle from age, and his blue eyes were hidden behind a unique pair of spectacles that had several sets of glass that could be pushed down or lifted up by corresponding tabs.

"Hmm… Quite an interesting response to a surprise Mr. Potter." The man stated with a smile. "You can learn quite a bit about a person by what they do when surprised. You can learn even more when you're the one doing the surprising."

"Wha- How do you-" Harry began.

"-Know who you are?" The man interrupted. "Quite simple actually. These spectacles of mine do more than magnify, and a spell as simple as that will not hold up to such detailed scrutiny. Especially with a mark like your scar behind it…"

Harry was caught completely off-guard by the man. He had no idea how to respond to him, and was essentially running on auto-pilot at this point. The man had to be Ollivander he decided. After all, who else would be waiting in this decrepit building?

"Now then!" The man said suddenly, clapping his hands together. "You need a Gaunt. I think Holly is the best place to start…"

Ollivander than walked off into the maze of shelves hurriedly. He grabbed several boxes before returning to Harry. He opened the top of the stack, and pulled out an intricate wooden bracelet. It had three golden beads that seemed to exude a pale light.

"Holly, gold, and unicorn horn." The man stated tersely as he placed the bracelet around Harry's wrist.

Several sparks of sickly red light spat out of Harry's fingers, and several of the boxes in the stack flew away of their own accord.

"Hohoh!" Ollivander exclaimed. "It seems that is not the Gaunt for you. No matter!"

The man ignored the stack at his feet, and nearly ran into the maze of shelves. He returned moments later with several more boxes. Another Gaunt was place on Harry's wrist, after he'd removed the previous one, and this time a fire exploded into existence on Ollivander's boot.

"I have a feeling that you're going to be a very interesting customer." Ollivander said happily.

The same pattern then began to repeat for the next twenty minutes. Ollivander would excitedly run around collecting boxes, return and have Harry test the Gaunt, some odd occurrence would happen nearby, and then Ollivander would get more excited. Eventually, Ollivander brought out a grey box that had an odd black Gaunt sitting inside. Each of the wooden beads was a swirling mix of two different woods, and the three metal beads were made of silver.

"Blackthorn and ebony, silver, and ground up dragon fang." The man explained as he placed the Gaunt on Harry's wrist.

A feeling of rightness washed through Harry, and bright multicolored sparks burst from all of ten of his fingers. He'd even begun smiling without realizing!

"Ah, it seems I've found your perfect match!" Ollivander exclaimed happily.

Harry nodded happily. It was a perfect match.

"It's quite odd however…" The man said suddenly. "The fang in your Gaunt was used in one other focus. Tom Riddle was the name of the boy who received it. He went on to do great things Mr. Potter… Great and terrible things. Why, he even gave you the scar that makes you so famous."

Harry reared back as if he was slapped. If he hadn't felt the sense of sheer rightness his Gaunt gave him, he'd be clawing the thing off his wrist and tossing it as far from himself as he could right then and there. The awkward silence stretched on for a few more moments, but Ollivander eventually spoke up.

"I believe you owe me ninety Galleons Mr. Potter." He stated quietly.

Harry gave the man the money instantly. He didn't care that this was by far the most expensive item he'd purchased all day, he just wanted to be out of the shop and away from the man who'd dropped such terrible information into his lap like it was nothing. He ran out of the shop, narrowly avoiding crashing into McGonagall, who sidestepped out of his path at the last second.

"Is there something wrong Mr. Potter?" She asked.

"Nothing Professor, the shop was just kind of creepy." He replied quietly. Hopefully she wouldn't see through his admittedly obvious lie.

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly but she made no comment.

"Very well. Let us return to the Grangers."

They made their way back to the main part of the Alley, where the book shop was located. The shop itself seemed fairly normal by the standards of the Alley, but that simply meant it wasn't actively playing with the laws of physics. The building was a tall stone tower that had four floors, each having varying amounts of books—with the top floor having the least. Apparently, the more dangerous books that require licenses to own were higher up, and everything below them was less dangerous. The Grangers seemed to have split a table between them, with Hermione looking at several books on something called 'Runes' and another about 'Arithmancy.' Dan was looking at several books on medical magic, and Ann was looking through geography books.

"Mister and Missus Granger," McGonagall called. "Harry has found his Gaunt, and if you can pull your daughter away from her stack of books, it is her turn."

"Hermione dear?" Ann said, giving her daughter a small nudge.

"Hm?" Hermione grunted absentmindedly.

"It's time to get your magic bracelet honey."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, her head shooting up from the book happily.

The Grangers paid for a few of the books they were looking at, and then followed McGonagall back to Ollivander's. The family entered the building while the Professor and Harry remained outside. After a few minutes Harry started drumming his fingers on the side of his leg impatiently.

"I doubt they will be long Mr. Potter," The Professor stated. "Most do not take long to find a match."

'Great… Another thing to set me apart.' Harry thought to himself.

A few more minutes passed after McGonagall's statement, and then the Granger family left the building. On Hermione's right wrist was now a tan bracelet with three bronze beads.

"Vine, bronze, and Dragon Heartstring Professor!" She exclaimed in excitement.

"While that is interesting Ms. Granger," The Professor replied. "Most do not share the materials of their Gaunt lightly. It says a lot about the user's personality to those who know how to look."

"R-right." Hermione responded nervously.

"Now we have our last stop for the day," McGonagall stated. "Mr. Mudwin's Mail Mart."

The Mail Mart was a typical postage office, with the unusual exception of its method of delivery. Apparently the shop sold animals that were trained to carry mail to anyone who was signed up in the system. The most commonly used animals were birds of prey, but some people had managed to domesticate more… exotic animals that were capable of flight. Flying cats, for one, were available in surplus, teleporting toads, fruit flies that could somehow hold the weight of a shrunken letter, and many more.

Hermione and her family had walked over to look at the flying cats, while the girl herself bombarded the Professor with questions.

The one that fascinated Harry the most, however, was the Coatl. The Coatl was, if the plaque in front of the enclosure was to be believed, the inspiration for the Aztec myth of Quetzalcoatl. The feathered snakes were mainly found living in the South American deserts and jungles until they were almost universally rounded up and transported to Mundus Magicus along with every magical animal in the massive operation called the 'Noah Project.'

The cage in front of him had twenty different snakes inside, each about a foot long and varying somewhat in color. They all were covered in fuzzy feathers that were positioned on the reptiles' bodies in a way that looked reminiscent of scales. Their snouts were longer than most snakes, tapering in a way that reminded Harry of the eastern dragons he'd seen in some of Dudley's picture books. Extending from the back of each of their heads were two several inch long horns that were completely straight and pointed backward.

The cage itself was obviously barely cared for. There was dried water accumulated on the glass, which was cracked, and the walls of the cage seemed to only be cleaned enough so that it didn't appear entirely repugnant. How could the shop let such majestic creatures live in such horrible conditions?

§ Hello, § Harry hissed quietly. § Do you sssspeak? §

Every single snake in the enclosure stopped what they were doing and simultaneously turned to stare at him. It was quite eerie.

§ A great one?! § They all hissed excitedly. They had an unusual accent compared to the few snakes Harry had met. It had an almost chittering tone added to their 'c's and 'ch's. It was probably from all the extra teeth in their mouths. No other snake that Harry had seen or heard of had that many.

§ Quiet you buffoonssss! § The largest, and only white snake exclaimed.. § Let him sssspeak! §

§ Well, um… I need someone to carry messssssssages for me. I thought one of you would be ideal since you sssspeak. § Harry replied.

Every single snake, with the exception of the white one started hissing § Me! Me! § louder than Harry had ever heard a snake hiss.

§ I can't take all of you… At leasssst, I don't think I can. Actually… one moment, let me check something. I will return. § Harry stated.

He walked away from the now eerily quiet enclosure, and headed to the register. He had ten Galleons, twenty Sickles, and five Knuts left. Hopefully he had enough for all of them. That cage was just too small for that many snakes. He'd buy them all, then release the majority, keeping only one as his messenger.

"How can I help you?" The boy at the register asked. He looked to be in his late teens, and was obviously quite unhappy to be there.

"How much for all the Coatls?" Harry asked.

The boy seemed surprised when he heard this, and he gave Harry an odd look.

"Look kid, you don't want one of those. They're snakes, see? Besides, I doubt your parent left you with enough galleons for the Coatls themselves, much less the separate registration fee to own all of them." The boy replied snidely.

"How. Much. Are they?" Harry ground out. The boy's attitude was beggining to annoy him something fierce.

"Eight galleons for the snakes, and another four for their registration." The boy said in exasperation.

"What if I only want to register one?" Harry asked.

"We aren't a pet shop kid. You have to register anything you buy here."

Harry glared at the older teen and then walked back to the cage. He began walking around it, looking for a lock. He could not allow any of them to stay in such a horrible cage. It was inhumane!

'Ah! There it is!' He exclaimed mentally. He'd found the lock, which was surprisingly well hidden behind the terrarium.

§ They won't let me take you, sssso I'm going to open the cage. You all can fly, yessss? § Harry asked the snakes.

§ We can great one! § One of the snakes declared.

§ Good, flee as quickly as you can when I open the cage. § Harry ordered.

He pulled the latch up, and swung the door open. His hair and eyes flickered purple for a moment, but remained pink. Every snake in the terrarium rushed out of the container, fleeing into the air gracefully. They flew in a manner identical to how they moved on the ground. The only difference being the almost spiral manner they moved in.

"Snakes!" A feminine voice screeched in fear from somewhere near the toad section.

§ Bwahaha! Fear me two-legs! § The largest snake hissed happily. He seemed to have the most… personality… of the bunch.

A somewhat rotund man waddled out of a room on the side of the pet store and began firing simple spells at the snakes. He had a badge on his chest that read 'Owner,' and a scowl on his face that seemed permanent.

"Stop!" Harry shouted at the man angrily. "They're not hurting anybody!"

He rushed in front of the man's spells, taking one to the shoulder in the process. As his hair and eyes shifted to purple, both of his arms were wrenched behind his back by an invisible force, straining his shoulders painfully. The tingling feeling Harry had managed to ignore for the last few hours began to recede slowly. The man stopped firing for a moment, but still pointed at Harry.

"You cost me Galleons boy!" He spat.

"You were attacking harmless creatures!" Harry shouted angrily.

"Why you!" The man grunted, flinging a red spell at Harry's face.

The white Coatl suddenly appeared in front of Harry, obscuring his vision with its proximity. The spell hit the snake, and it crashed to the ground with a light thunk. Harry stared dumbfounded for a moment, then quickly kneeled in front of the snake.

§ Are you okay?! Hello? Pleasssse don't be dead, don't be dead! § Harry hissed with worry.

The man's eyes widened in fear and he backed up without realizing, tripping and falling on his rear. He continued crawling backward, as if he was staring down an apex predator. Harry looked up, tears brimming in his eyes, and glared at the man hatefully.

§ You killed him! § Harry hissed in partial snake-speak. The tingling feeling was gone completely.

The man's expression shifted partially in to shock, then amazement, then back to fear when he saw Harry's face. He pointed at Harry shakily with his hand before speaking.

"I-It's Harry Potter! Harry Potter is a Parselmouth!" He shouted loudly.

Just as he finished speaking, Professor McGonagall stepped up to them. She'd been trapped behind the crowd during the altercation, and was unable to interfere without forcing her way through the innocent, but fearful people.

"I believe that's enough Mr. Mudwin, Mr. Potter." She ordered in a cold tone. "Mr. Potter, you will give the man the price of the Coatls. You Mr. Mudwin, will give Mr. Potter the Coatl at his feet free of charge, and register it as his messenger animal."

"But, he's dead…" Harry whispered morosely.

"No Mr. Potter, the Coatl is quite alive, I assure you." The Professor stated. "The spell Mr. Mudwin had intended to use on you, was the stunning spell, which knocks someone unconscious without harming them. Your courageous little friend will be quite fine by morning."

Harry sighed with relief, and finally began to notice the quiet muttering surrounding him. People kept saying the words 'Parselmouth,' 'dark,' and his name. Many were leaving the shop even! All of this confused him.

"Why're they calling me evil Professor?" He asked bluntly.

"Because You-Know-Who was a Parselmouth brat!" Mr. Mudwin shouted angrily. "Every dark lord in history has been able to speak with snakes or dark creatures!"

The man opened his mouth to continue, but a blue spell smacked into his face, forcing his lips shut. McGonagall sighed, and lowered her hand.

"While I would not have put it in those words, he is unfortunately correct Mr. Potter. Parseltongue is a rare, and often considered dark, talent that inspires fear in the majority of the population. I would warn you to keep it to yourself, but I think it's far too late for that."

"Oh…" Harry said quietly.

The next few minutes were spent with Harry paying with the last of his money for all the Coatls he'd released, Hermione paying for the ugly cat she'd decided to purchase to stay in touch with her parents, and him enduring the various questions the girl was throwing his way about the language he now knew was called 'Parseltongue.'

"So how does it work?" She asked him for the umpteenth time as the exited the shop.

"I already told you, I don't know!" He practically shouted. She was really starting to get on his nerves. "I just think of, or look at a snake and it just… happens!"

"But it can't be that simple! Human throats can't make the sounds that snakes do!" Hermione responded.

"Hermione, stop bothering the poor boy!" Ann exclaimed. "You can research this when you get to school, he obviously doesn't know the answer to your question."

"I believe it's best that we wrap things up now. Harry is a bit of a celebrity in our world, and since his… actions… broke the notice-me-not I placed on him, he will be drawing attention wherever we go." The Professor interjected. She pulled a sheet of parchment out of a pocket and handed it to Hermione. "Do not lose that. It has the order of brick you need to press to reveal the portal, and the address of the train to Hogwarts."

"Thank you for your help Professor." Dan said politely.

The Grangers said their goodbyes, and then left for home after McGonagall used an illusion spell on Hermione's cat that made its wings unnoticeable to muggles. Harry watched them walk off toward the massive cathedral that served as the portal building mutely. He had no idea what was going to happen now. The white Coatl was still unconscious, and was draped around Harry's shoulders. His trunk, with all of his supplies, was shrunken and in his pocket.

"Well then Mr. Potter, I believe we need to procure accommodations for you."

The Professor led him a few buildings over to a large wooden tavern that had an image of a leaking cauldron engraved into a dangling wooden sign near the door. They walked into the building, which was very cozy and friendly seeming, if a little dirty on the flooring. At the bar was an older gentleman with balding grey hair and a chef's apron on. He was washing several mugs when they stepped in front of him.

"Hullo Minerva," the man said in greeting. "What can I do fer ya?"

"Hello Tom." The Professor replied. "I have a first year here who's in need of accommodations until the summer. I need this to be discreet, as it will draw quite a bit of undue attention if people know he's staying here."

"I suppose he can stay," Tom replied, glancing down at Harry's face. His eyes widened and his mouth shot open to ask a question before he remembered to be 'discreet.' "I can see why ya want ta be discreet…"

"Yes, I thought you would. Now, a room key please? I need to have a talk with my charge." McGonagall stated.

Tom nodded and reach under the counter for a few moments, then pulled out a simple bronze key. While simple, it was still quite unusual compared to the keys Harry was used to. It wouldn't look out of place on a large iron key ring, and definitely wouldn't go on a keychain.

"Room twenteh three. Down that hall and to the left." Tom stated, pointing at a hallway to the right of the bar.

"Thank you." McGonagall said tersely.

She walked down the hallway briskly, and unlocked the corresponding room with the key. Harry followed her into the room, and sat on the bed when she motioned to him. The room was smallish, but was extravagant compared to the cupboard. It had a twin bed in one corner near the window, a desk in the opposite corner, and a small closet that had more than enough room for Harry's trunk and belongings.

McGonagall closed the door behind her and sat in the desk chair after flipping it around to face Harry.

"So, to begin, I believe we should discuss your actions at the Mail Mart." She said angrily. "What possessed you to release so many snakes!?"

The sudden outburst completely shocked Harry into silence for a moment, but he spoke up quickly once he realized she actually expected a response, not for him to listen to a rant. The Dursleys would always expect the latter of the two, so it was a startling difference.

"The cage was horrible Professor, nothing deserves to live like that!" Harry replied. "It was- it was worse than my cupboard!"

Harry covered his mouth reflexively. He had not meant to say that.

"Cupboard..?" McGonagall asked in confusion.

"N-nothing Professor. Sorry, I won't do something so stupid like in the Mail Mart again." Harry said in a panic. He needed her to not pay attention to the cupboard comment.

"You won't distract me that easily Mr. Potter," McGonagall stated. "Now, what was that about a cupboard?"

"Err…" Harry mumbled quietly. "It was… it was my room."

"Of all the thi- They put you in a cupboard?!" McGonagall nearly roared, causing Harry to shrink back fearfully.

The Professor instantly recognized her mistake, and stopped clenching her fists.

"It's fine Harry, I would never hurt you." She said quietly. "Did the Dursleys ever…?"

"No! No, they never did anything that severe. They'd just smack me lightly if I got them too upset. Kind of like a smack to the bottom…" Harry muttered with red cheeks. Oh how he wanted this conversation to be over.

"Very well Mr. Potter… I can tell you don't want to talk about this, so we'll let it lie for now. We will be talking about it at the end of the school year however. You can't just stay at the Leaky Cauldron all summer, and I doubt you'll want to return to the Dursleys." The Professor stated. "Do you have any questions for me on any other topics, or do you want to discuss what happened to your parents in more detail than we went into before?"

Harry opened his mouth to ask a question, then paused. There was just… so much that had happened, and he didn't even know what he wanted to ask at this point.

"Let's just talk about my parents Professor." He replied tiredly.

"Very well." McGonagall said. "The best place to start, I believe, is with the Civil War I mentioned briefly. The Blood War, as we call it now, arose from tension between mages born mostly to the Aristocracy of our world and those born either off world or to squib parents. Squibs range from those who can use Caster magic, but not Holder magic, to those who can only use magical tools, to those who can't use magic at all, but are born to magical parents."

"Many mages believe themselves superior to those that can't use holder magic, they especially look down on those who can't use magic at all. Their belief goes so far, that they believe that squibs shouldn't be allowed to be members of our society. This eventually led to the Blood War, with a man named… Lord Voldemort… taking the lead of the High-born faction. He was, to put it simply, terrifyingly powerful, and things rapidly descended into violence." McGonagall continued. "Those were dark days… People rarely left their homes for fear of being killed or… worse. The government was unable to do anything, since many in power supported the Dark Lord secretly, and those who fought him directly rarely survived. All of this lasted until the day You-Know-Who went to your home, killing your parents and tried to kill you. For a reason unknown to us all, he failed, and suddenly people didn't have to fear a real life bogeyman anymore. That is why you are a celebrity."

"Well sh- err, crud. That's… I don't really know how to react to that." Harry replied quietly.

McGonagall stood up and gave Harry a reassuring smile.

"That is quite understandable Mr. Potter." The Professor said quietly. "Just think on it."

She took several steps toward the door and then stopped. She slipped a parchment out of her pocket and placed it on the desk in the room. The parchment seemed identical to the one she'd handed Hermione earlier.

"I will see you at Hogwarts in a week Mr. Potter. Please avoid attention for the week. You have many people who admire you for defeating You-Know-Who, and many who despise you. I recommend you spend the time reviewing your textbooks. It will aid you in your studies." She suggested. "Goodbye Mr. Potter."

The Professor left the room, closing the door behind her. Harry flopped backward onto the bed, narrowly avoiding the Coatl, who was still unconscious. He fell asleep a few minutes later. It had been a long day.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~


	2. In Which a Train Leaves its Station

**So… Chapter two is here. I'll have a longer author's note at the end about stuff I covered in this chapter as well as a few other things, since I don't want to post a massive block at the beginning of every chapter. Hope you all enjoy it, and thanks for the views, reviews, favorites, and follows. It was far more than I expected in the first week of posting a**_** single**_** chapter. Chapter three will take longer than this one did, as there's some somewhat complex stuff I haven't decided how I'm going to approach yet. I apologize in advance for that.**

**Thanks,**

**Isdren.**

Chapter Two

In Which a Train Leaves its Station

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

So… It's been a bit since I updated this… Journal? I've been _reminded_ that I should add to it, so here we are. Where did I leave off again? Ah, yeah, the Leaky Cauldron. Well, that's where I'll pick up then, at the start of my weird and varied problems.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

**§ **Great one! Wake up already! The ssssky light hassss rissssen! **§ **A voice hissed directly into Harry's ear.

Harry shot out of bed, startled by the proximity of the loud sound. He looked around, and saw the Coatl was… laughing? Yes, the Coatl was _laughing_ at him. Laughing so hard, in fact, that it was rolling around on Harry's bed with mirth.

**§ **What wassss that for? **§ **Harry asked in annoyance. He did not like being _laughed_ at by a snake!

**§** Y-you weren't w-waking up, **§ **the serpent giggled. **§** Ssso I fixed that. **§**

**§ **Well don't do that! I could have rolled onto you or ssssomething! **§ **Harry exclaimed.

**§ **But you didn't, sssso the point issss moot. **§ **The snake replied.

Harry sighed in exasperation but decided to let the point lie.

**§ **Sssso, what am I doing here? **§** The Coatl asked.

**§** Well, when you leaped in front of me, the shop-owner hit you with a sssspell that knocked you out. After that, thingssss were ressssolved by my elder two-legssss, who decided you would be my messsssenger. **§ **Harry explained.

**§ **Why should _I_ be _your_ messsssenger? **§** The Coatl replied.

**§ **Because you took a sssspell for me? That ussssually meanssss you value the persssson that you tried to protect. **§ **Harry replied in confusion. Most snakes went out of their way to help him, so this one stood out quite a bit with its contrary behavior.

**§ **That'ssss… oh very well. I sssshall be your messsssenger… Little Masssster. **§** The snake agreed.

**§ **Wonderful! **§ **Harry exclaimed. **§** Do you have a name? **§**

**§ **I do not, but I recently heard one of the sssstupid two-legssss make the ssssound 'Arto.' I like it. Call me that, Little Masssster. **§ **The snake ordered.

**§ **Alright, Arto it issss. **§ **Harry agreed.

Harry turned around and set his shrunken trunk on the floor with his left hand. He then stared at it for a few moments, as he realized he had no idea how to _un_shrink it. Arto slithered into the air, floating behind Harry in a way that would unnerve most. Harry barely noticed.

**§ **What issss it Little Masssster? **§ **Arto asked. **§ **Why doessss the morssssel-ssssized box vex you sssso? **§**

**§ **I'm ssssuppossssed to make it bigger, sssso I can learn from whatssss within it. The problem issss I have no idea how to make it bigger. **§** Harry replied as he continued studying the shrunken trunk.

He crouched down and reached out to it with his right hand. Just as his fingertip made contact with the box, it exploded into motion, gaining volume at a rapid pace, and stopping a few seconds later. At its full size, the trunk was about a meter tall, half that wide, and fifteen or so centimeters deep. The size was deceptive, however, as the trunk could fit about twice that much into its confines.

**§ **Well… that wassss sssstartling. **§** Arto hissed quietly.

Harry nodded in reply but didn't comment. Instead, he opened up the trunk and began placing all of the books within it onto the desk. Some of the titles stood out, such as 'Potion Brewing for Dunderheads: A Guide on not Killing Yourself and Everyone in the Classroom,' or 'Transfiguration for the Terminally Slow.' Most, however, were rather simple descriptions of the book's content, such as 'Charms Casting for First Years,' and 'Herbology for Beginners.'

He flipped through the table of contents of each and decided to start with the Charms book. It seemed to be the most interesting of the ones that made sense. The book on Holder magic relied heavily on the reader's pre-existing knowledge, so he assumed it would be covered in class. He did plan to spend a large portion of the week focusing on the Potions book since there seemed to be a disturbing amount of ways for him to kill himself or those around him, and that was something he'd rather avoid.

Arto settled himself onto Harry's shoulders, with his head resting on the top of Harry's own. Harry spent the next hour reading the introduction to the Charms book. According to the book they were defined as, 'adding certain properties to an object or creature and were exclusively unrelated to combat directly, even if they can be creatively applied in such a manner.' They are often involved in enchanting apparently, which is the art of permanently modifying an object's capabilities through spells alone. It was a fascinating read for Harry, who decided to try some of the spells in the first chapter.

Charms—which was a subtype of Caster Magick—the book had explained, was used by redirecting power through a focus and manipulating the energy through hand motions and words to achieve a specific purpose. The rule of thumb was simply, 'the more complex the wording or hand motions, the more difficult and dangerous the spell.' The book mentioned in passing that once one was familiar enough with a spell, they could simplify some of the motions or remove the wording, which seemed to be something McGonagall did regularly if Harry remembered properly.

Harry lifted his right hand up while staring at the book, which he held in his left. He was going to begin with the most basic spell on the list.

"Lumos." He incanted while he held his hand in a fist, with the exception of his index finger, which stuck out vertically.

He felt _something_ flowing through the inside of his body. The feeling started at his heart, and flew out to his fingertip, using his arm as a highway to get there quickly. This all happened in one instant, and in the next one, a _far_ too bright light burst into existence half an inch above his index finger.

**§ **Gah! Get that out of my ssssight Little Masssster! Nothing should be that bright! **§** Arto shouted.

"Nox!" Harry yelped, causing the light to disappear; the only evidence of its existence being the black splotch in the middle of Harry's vision.

**§ **Well… That went well. **§** Harry hissed sarcastically.

**§ **If by well, you mean horribly, then you're correct Little Masssster! **§** Arto replied dramatically. **§ **My poor ssssight-orbssss sssshall never recover! **§**

**§** That was ssssarcassssm Arto. **§** Harry explained.

**§** Oh. **§** Arto responded. After a moment's pause, in which he rested his head on Harry's again, he continued. **§** Very well. Jusssst don't do it again. **§**

**§** Agreed. **§**

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

The next five days continued in a similar manner. Harry spent the morning studying Caster Magicks, then Tom would bring him lunch, which he shared with Arto. After he ate, he'd study the 'Less magical subjects' as he called them. Potions, Herbology, and History were things that fell into that category. Tom would bring him dinner around six in the evening, and after that, he would spend some time with the sketchbook that he'd bought at the bookshop while the Grangers were checking out.

So far, Arto was not happy with his rather… poor… attempts at recreating the serpent on paper. He was even less happy when he noticed that a drawing could be animated by the artist's intent once the drawing was complete. Due to the quality of Harry's attempts, the animated results tended to flop around on the page inelegantly before going still in a rather macabre manner. Arto liked that part since that meant the 'sssslanderoussss interpretationssss of his elegant appearance were ended before they could further taint the world with their pressssencccce.' Harry just thought it was hilarious.

He learned that Arto's language became rather erudite when he was angry, so the hobby was even educational.

When Sunday morning arrived, Harry was awake and ready quite early, far earlier than Arto would have preferred. The serpent seemed to prefer late starts now that he wasn't waking up in an unfamiliar location. Harry re-packed his trunk the night before and had placed his Hogwarts robes over the plain clothes he'd ordered with a few other things early in the week. Harry had gotten several sets of baggy pants, and matching shirts, with a coarse black vest that he'd throw over the rest to give Arto friction to hang off of. The serpent seemed to prefer wrapping himself around Harry's neck like a feathered scarf, and would regularly nap in that position. The robes would go on top, usually evenly over the shoulders, but he'd decided to drape them a bit more over his left shoulder than the right one so that Arto could stick his head out easily. Arto would get annoyed whenever he was fully covered. As he put it 'why sssshould I have to hide my beauty? Bessssidessss, it'ssss sssstuffy.'

"Alright… Let's go!" He exclaimed quietly. It wouldn't do to have an angry snake around his neck, now would it?

He dragged his trunk, which thankfully slid on the ground with the ease of a seal on a buttery rock, down the hallway of the Leaky Cauldron and out into Diagon Alley. Arto shifted slightly when they hit the fresh air, but remained asleep. He walked briskly down the wide street, the place really couldn't be called an alley, dodging around the many people surrounding him. Harry took great care to make sure his bangs covered his scar as he walked. He was quite grateful he'd managed to convince Aunt Petunia to let him have his longish hair.

By the time he reached the station he was quite glad he'd left earlier than he needed to since the crowds had exponentially increased the time it took to get there. Why, he only had twenty minutes to get on the train! The station itself was a large grey stone building that was simply called Crocus Station. Harry hadn't noticed until he saw the map of where the trains went to, but Diagon Alley was actually just the magical shopping district of Fiore's capital, Crocus. Named for its predecessor on Earth.

The inside of the station was similar to the outside, meaning it was made up mostly of grey stone. Harry swerved through the much thicker crowd as quickly as he could. He no longer cared if he woke Arto up, he needed to make sure he was on the train when it left. He passed into one of the many hallways that branched out of the massive room that was the entrance hall. Thankfully, the number of people began to thin the further he got until it was merely half what he'd seen at the beginning of the hallway. At that point, it was almost exclusively people that were dropping their children off for Hogwarts, and no longer any other travelers.

The particular sub-hallway he was looking for, the one that led to the Hogwarts Express, was numbered 9 ¾. The mages of this world seemed to prefer using fractions in their lists instead of having larger numbers. Case in point, Crocus station would likely have close to a hundred different numbered labels for the destinations it led to—each with their own train— if they didn't label things with a quarter number as well as a whole number. They really seemed to avoid three digits numbers if they were able.

As he turned down the smaller hallway that led to platform 9 ¾ he heard someone yell quite clearly, and loudly, 'Fred! George! You will _not_ be sending your sister a toilet seat!' Whoever these Fred and George were, they sounded like interesting people.

Harry stepped onto the platform, which was beginning to clear, and stopped for a moment to stare at the train. It was a bright red, smoke spewing, monster of a train. It looked to be twice as thick as a conventional steam train, which it was clearly modeled after, and three times as long. The train could easily fit nine hundred people, and possibly a thousand if the people in question gave up some personal space.

After a moment of staring, he noticed a clock hanging on the wall opposite the hallway he'd entered from. The minute hand was nearly at the turn of the hour, which was when the train left. Harry picked up his somewhat heavy trunk and ran full-speed down the platform, narrowly avoiding several people in his mad dash to get on the train. A burst of smoke erupted from the front of the train, and Harry leapt for the door. He latched onto the handle, flinging it open and slipping inside just as the train began to move. He carefully closed the door behind him and slid to the floor, panting with exhaustion.

"Well… I won't be doing that again if I can avoid it." Harry muttered to himself.

"Are you sure? That looked like great fun to me," A voice said to Harry's left.

"That it did brother of mine," A nearly identical voice said to Harry's right.

Harry looked up, and saw two redheaded, in the classic Earth sense instead of the neon standards of Earthland, boys who had identical features staring down at him mischievously. The two looked to be Irish and they both stood there in maroon shirts, one of which had the letter 'F' written on it, while the other had a matching 'G.' They had brown Hogwarts cloaks on, which seemed to be hiding several objects in their depths. Harry couldn't quite tell what they were, however.

"Who're you?" Harry asked.

"Why, George my dear fellow, it seems we aren't as well-known as we thought!" The sibling with a 'G' on his shirt said to the other.

"This is a travesty! How are we _not_ known to every ickle firstie that passes through these hallowed compartments!?" The brother with an 'F' on his chest exclaimed.

Given the way they were speaking off of each other, Harry guessed they'd continue for far too long if he let them, so he interrupted quickly.

"Yes, well, that doesn't change the fact that you _still_ haven't introduced yourselves." The purple-haired boy stated.

"Ah, of course!" The brother with the 'G' on his chest agreed.

"We are the noblest of the noble," the one with the 'F' on his chest began without pause.

"The smartest of the smart," the other twin continued.

"The handsomest of the handsome," the second twin added.

"We are…" the 'G' twin said.

"The Prankster Kings of Hogwarts," the 'F' twin proceeded.

"The Weasley Twins," the 'G' twin nearly finished.

"Gred and Forge!" the 'F' twin completed.

"That's not right brother!" The twin with the 'G' on his chest corrected. "We agreed to be Fred and George today."

"How could I forget?" The Twin with the 'F' nodded seriously before turning to Harry. "He is, of course, correct ickle firstie. We are Fred and George today."

"R-right…" Harry muttered unsurely, before adding mentally: _'These guys are __weird__!'_

"So," The 'F' twin began.

"Now that we've introduced ourselves," The 'G' twin continued.

"Would you kindly introduce yourself?" The 'F' twin finished.

'_Should I say my actual name?'_ Harry wondered for a moment. He knew the way the two would likely react would be… annoying, and he wanted to hold onto his anonymity for as long as possible. At the same time, he knew that if he lied he would likely alienate the two once they inevitably found out his actual identity.

"Harry Potter." He stated calmly as his hair shifted to pink. He didn't want to alienate the 'Prankster Kings' of Hogwarts. It likely wouldn't go over well for his long-term enjoyment of the school. Pranksters usually would do almost _anything_ for a laugh, and usually targeted those they disliked first and foremost. He did not want to put himself in their crosshairs.

"Harry Potter?!" they both exclaimed simultaneously, and uncomfortably loudly. "And what happened to your hair?"

Harry heard quite a few feet suddenly hit the ground, and a similar amount of doors slide open.

"Harry Potter?!" Someone yelled.

"He's _here_?!" Another person added equally loudly.

Dozens of feet stampeded toward Harry and the twins, all of which were beginning to panic. Harry, because it seemed he was about to be mobbed in exactly the manner he'd _very_ much wished to avoid. The twins, because they realized how much fervor the average mage had about the Boy-Who-Lived, and they knew what it'd lead to; plus, they were standing in front of _Harry Potter_! That was kind of relevant too. People swarmed into the compartment, shoving the twins to the walls of the compartment, and Harry into the corner.

"Oh, Merlin! It _is_ Harry Potter!" One of the students, a third year in all likelihood given their height, exclaimed as he pushed forward in the crowd.

The compartment was somehow still filling up.

"How'd you do it!?" A ginger boy that looked to be the younger brother of the twins asked.

'Why are people still stuffing themselves in?!' Harry worried mentally.

"Screw that! Can he teach us how to survive the killing curse is the question!" Someone that wasn't as easily visible called.

"Stop it… please." Harry mumbled nervously. He was beginning to _really get _overwhelmed.

"Do you remember it?" Someone in the back shouted, unknowingly placing the final straw upon the figurative camel's back.

§ Enough! § Harry hissed angrily in partial-tongue, as he'd decided to call it. Arto woke up finally, hearing his little master's anger, and stuck his head out of the pink-haired boy's cloak. He held his head aloft, hissing loudly and swaying in an intimidating manner.

**§ **Get away from the Little Masssster filthy two-legssss! **§** He shouted angrily in Parseltongue.

The crowd, which had filled the room almost entirely, somehow managed to force themselves back far enough to give Harry a reasonable buffer of space. The ones in the front fell on their rears and whimpered as they crawled backward.

§ I don't know what you've heard of me, but I most _definitely_ had little, if not nothing, to do with what killed _Voldemort _that night. I don't even remember what happened! Don't you think it'sss more likely that one of my parents laid some sssort of trap for the bassstard!? § He shouted in partial-tongue. He was far too angry to speak without the accent.

The entire crowd 'eep'ed with fear when he used the Dark Lord's name, simultaneously flinching. Several of them even huddled into balls. Many of them were wincing slightly whenever he pronounced an 's' in partial-tongue.

§ Now, I don't know who told all of you that _I_ did sssomething to kill _Voldemort_, but I didn't even know Earthland _exisssted_ until a week ago! Ssso get away from me, ssstop looking at me like sssome sort of cccircusss animal, and leave me alone! § He finished, pausing to breathe after his rant.

…_Clap…!_

…_Clap…!_

…_Clap…!_

A tall, bright blue-haired, young man walked through the slightly less congested hallway, clapping slowly to punctuate every other step. He wore a white sport coat and matching slacks, both of which were highlighted in black, with silver arrow-like patterns on the collar and cuffs. The coat was held shut by silver buckles. He had pretty, but still masculine features that were marred by a red, arrow-like, tattoo that mirrored itself below and above his right eye. Everyone in the room stared at the unusual man.

"I must say, I did not expect Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Heir to the Light, the boy who was supposed to be _the _paragon of virtue, to act like that," the man stated.

He paused for a moment to stare at Harry, right in the eyes. Something in the man's gaze made him flinch away, and his scar burned. He ducked his head slightly but still kept his eyes on the man.

"I'm impressed," he continued.

Harry's head shot up in confusion, accidentally looking the man in the eyes again. The burning feeling did not recur, and he didn't even feel the need to flinch.

"As I said, I expected many things from you, Harry Potter," he said. "Being an entitled brat for one, or possibly a know-it-all who believes books are all-encompassing, or perhaps even a parrot that repeats the philosophy of his minders without thought or reason. Being a logical, emotional, and _sensible_ person? That was almost out of the realm of possibility. I did not expect someone _human_, and for defying my unfavorable expectations I congratulate you."

"Who are you?" Some brave soul in the crowd interjected. Harry purposely remained silent to watch the unusual man.

"Me?" the man asked in feigned confusion. "I am Seigrain Fernandes, the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. I have a few other titles, as I'm sure many of you are aware, but they aren't quite relevant currently."

"Oh." The person in the crowd said numbly. They obviously recognized the name.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Harry asked curiously before he could stop himself. His hair shifted to purple, along with his eyes. "There wasn't a textbook for that class on my list. Is that for older students?"

Seigrain smiled for some reason, Harry couldn't figure out why and shook his head.

"No, you do have my textbook. Defense Against the Dark Arts begins with teaching a certain… mindset, I think you could call it, and as such uses no textbook for the first semester. Afterward, it begins focusing on a textbook I assure you is on your list," the Professor explained, adding a few dramatic gestures to punctuate his speaking. "I teach you how to flee from the things that go bump in the night, how to make your own way out when there is no escape, how to kill those terrible things for the advanced students, and lastly, how to begin harnessing your own personal Holder Magick."

The man stopped his explanation and looked directly at Harry again.

"I am rather… curious… as to what form of Holder Magick you will have Mr. Potter." Seigrain stated. "You went and defied all of my expectations, so I believe I will be setting the bar a bit higher this time. Hopefully, you will continue to surprise me."

All this time that the Professor was speaking, the students had remained frozen, some staring at him and others staring at Harry; many also stared at Arto, who had relaxed back onto Harry's shoulder but kept his head out from under the cloak. The Professor seemed to finally notice the other students in the room and frowned slightly at them all.

"I believe you should all apologize to Mr. Potter," the man declared, ignoring the almost immediate protest. "You swarmed him almost like animals, what did you expect him to do? He is _human_, so he reacted negatively when put into what was for him, a highly stressful scenario. I would give points for his relatively peaceful reaction, but he has yet to be sorted."

'_Sorted?' _Harry thought idly.

"Now, _apologize_." The professor ordered. His eyes flashed red for a moment so brief Harry was nearly sure he was seeing things, and suddenly everyone in the room was on their feet nodding respectfully toward him.

"I'm sorry," most of the crowd said, with the rest saying variations therein.

"Err… thanks?" Harry said unsurely. He was rather confused about the whole situation. An adult came to his rescue, sort of, and _he_ was _apologized _to by everyone else. It was rather new territory.

"Very well. I shall bid you adieu Mr. Potter. I recommend that all of _you_," the Professor said, glancing first at Harry, and then at the crowd. "Leave him alone. If he sits in your compartment, be polite, if he doesn't then don't pester him with questions later. He obviously doesn't appreciate it."

The crowd nodded as one, then walked rather briskly out of the room. It was quite the opposite of the mad dash they'd displayed on the way in. The twins remained in the room, but the Professor ignored them. He smiled at Harry again, then left the room. A few moments of awkward silence later, the twins approached Harry slowly, both with their heads hung shamefully.

"Err, sorry about that mate," Fred, or at least the one with the 'F' on his shirt began.

"We, we didn't mean for any of that to happen." George, who hopefully was wearing the shirt with the 'G' on it added.

"We were just so surprised!" Fred continued.

"I mean, Harry Potter was in front of us!" George said.

"It was nuts!" Fred stated.

"So we reacted a little louder than we should have," George added.

They both looked genuinely remorseful, unlike the near entirety of the crowd, so Harry decided to forgive them. They seemed well-intentioned, and he knew that was a rarity.

"It's alright guys. I can tell it was an accident. No hard feelings," Harry replied. "I do have one question though."

"Yeah?" Fred asked.

"How do you two speak so in sync like that?" Harry asked.

The twins stopped for a moment, then turned to look at each other as wide toothy grins spread across their faces. They turned back toward Harry, put one of their hands behind their backs and held up their other hands in a pointing gesture. They simultaneously winked and bobbed their upheld hands at Harry.

"Now that… is a secret."

After the laugh that ensued from the twins' comment, they explained that they needed to go find their compartment; one of their friends had saved one for them.

"We'd offer you a seat there," Fred stated.

"But the place is rather full with our group already, and I doubt you want to be squished by someone," George finished.

"That's fine guys," Harry replied calmly. He was disappointed, as he didn't like his chances of finding an unoccupied compartment, but he refused to let it show. "I'll just find my own."

He walked away from the twins, dragging his trunk behind him as he went. Harry walked down the hallway of the train. The train was made up of a good number of compartments that were linked to each other with cabins within them. The people that had swarmed Harry had all come from the same compartment, so he thought it best to move to a different one.

The next compartment looked much the same as the first one, wooden interior with occasional red lining. The doors to the cabins were all of the sliding variety and had a small glass window in them. The window had a shutter, many of which were drawn to cover the glass. Harry circumspectly glimpsed through several of the un-shuttered windows, since the shuttered ones almost definitely had people in them.

To Harry's dismay, all of the cabins were full, so he moved to the next compartment.

The situation seemed similar in this one, with the notable exception of one cabin that was partially empty. Inside was a skinny but tall white-haired teen with soft somewhat Nordic features. He looked almost too young to be going to Hogwarts, but it was far more likely he was simply being affected by puberty slower than his peers. He was dressed in a navy blue suit with a red tie on top of the white dress shirt he wore beneath the sport coat. He had a green parrot on his shoulder, and he was quietly reading a book. Next to the boy was a girl who looked similar enough to him that she was likely his sister, although she looked a bit younger than him. She was looking out the window with a small smile on her pretty face. The girl was dressed in a simple white blouse with a light brown set of jeans. Across from them sat two more girls and a familiar ginger boy, one of the girls had blue hair that was reminiscent of the deep ocean, and the other had pink hair to rival Harry's… when it was pink anyway.

The blue-haired girl was dressed in a dark blue Russian coat and appeared to be Russian herself, as well as having a matching fuzzy blue cap on her head. In addition, she had an odd pair of bright blue glasses that had a swirling circular pattern on the lens, which shifted subtly whenever she moved her head. She was holding some sort of newspaper upside down and was nodding occasionally as if she was actually reading it properly. The pink-haired girl had white fluffy earmuffs on slightly above her ears that matched the equally fluffy white jacket she wore above her pink leggings. She was also staring out the window. Next to her was a boy that had been in the crowd earlier, and whose face looked similar enough to the twins for him to be their younger brother. He was dressed in an obviously old brown coat, which he wore over a dirty white shirt. To complete his look, he had a thin leather bracer on his left wrist that was noticeably better quality than the rest of his clothing, and simple old jeans.

Harry nearly moved on from the compartment, even though there was enough room for another person, simply because the boy who was in the crowd earlier was there. Unfortunately, the blue-haired girl chose exactly the moment he looked into their compartment to look up at the door's window. She had a scarily blank expression and nodded at him as if she wanted him to come in. Harry reflexively peeked up at his bangs, just to make sure he hadn't been recognized as the Boy-Who-Lived. The point was moot, of course, the boy from the crowd was there so he obviously had informed the rest of the compartment about his presence. It wasn't likely that there was going to be an empty compartment it seemed...

After pausing for a moment, Harry sighed and slid the door open as his hair shifted to a slightly brighter pink than the girl in the compartment's hair was.

"Hello," he began. "Do you mind if I sit in here?"

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

Ron Weasley's day had started off wonderfully. He was _finally_ going to Hogwarts and none of his older brothers—especially the self-proclaimed Prankster Kings—would be sharing a compartment with him. It was going to be a great day! His best friend, Neville Longbottom, was sharing a compartment with him and had brought money for candy. Nothing could go wrong! Then his younger sister had begged him and Neville to bring her friends along too. She didn't want any of the 'mean' students to bully them. He'd crumbled, along with Neville, under the as yet undefeated puppy-dog eyes of Ginny Weasley.

So he'd ended up in a compartment with _girls!_ He and Neville were now outnumbered, with three girls to two boys. One of his sister's best friends, Neville's slightly younger sister Lisanna; another close friend, the pink-haired Aries Astra; and the older sister to her last friend, the blue-haired Juvia Lovegood. Luna, Juvia's younger sister, was born just after the cut-off for Hogwarts acceptance in their year and would be coming to the venerable school of magic the next year; as Ginny would be.

At first, Ron thought the experience would be terrible, but thankfully the girls were mostly quiet with him and Neville in the compartment. They were content to look out the window, talk quietly, or read one of the various things that they'd brought with them. Even their _textbooks_! Ron couldn't understand why they'd start reading about school stuff this early, but to each their own.

Things had been going quite well considering the change in plans until he'd left the cabin to go find the bathroom. Apparently whoever had created the train had decided it was ideal to give them one bathroom in every three greater compartments. Ron had eventually found one, but was interrupted when he hears voices that sounded suspiciously like his twin older brothers shouting 'Harry Potter?!'

Bedlam erupted from there. People rushed out of their cabins, all charging toward the sound. They'd all heard the news. Harry Potter had been spotted in Diagon Alley, which meant he was likely going to Hogwarts this year. Few believed the rumors that he was a Parselmouth; he was the Boy-Who-Lived, how could he be anything even _remotely_ evil? No-one had seen him on platform 9 ¾, so many had begun to speculate that he'd show up at Hogwarts in some spectacular manner. A few had suggested he'd show up at the Opening Feast in a golden chariot fit for the gods of yore, or a flying car if you listened to some people, but the most popular theory was that he'd simply utilize the lost magic of Apparation, or something similar, to enter the Great Hall—ignoring the ancient wards the castle was famous for.

Ron was shoved aside, then pulled into the crowd as they went. Things went downhill rather quickly after that. Harry Potter was _actually_ there to everyone's' amazement, so everyone had swarmed him and deluged him with questions. He didn't react well to all of the sudden attention and noise. Ron yelled his own question shortly before Potter lost it. He'd gotten caught up in the excitement of the crowd, and forgotten the manners his mother desperately tried to drill into his head, as per usual. To be fair, most of the crowd wouldn't have met her standards either.

Potter himself didn't match up with the image that everyone associated with him. For one, his hair color was completely different than either his parents or grandparents, which while unusual wasn't unheard of in the magical community. He was thinner than was expected as well, but still just as tall. The thing that set him apart the most however was his face. He definitely had _the_ scar on his forehead, but the rest of his face seemed… off. He was definitely not the clone of the infamous James Potter that most had expected, nor did he look like a male version of his mother. If it wasn't for the nose of his father and the eye shape of his mother it would be easy to think he was a cousin of the boy-who-lived, not the living legend himself.

Ron didn't notice any of that of course, he just thought that Potter looked a bit different from the photos his dad had shown him of the Boy-Who-Lived's father, who had been a family acquaintance. Soon after Ron's question, the boy had lashed out at everyone in the compartment, scaring the Weasley immensely.

'_Potter's a bloody Parselmouth!'_ Ron thought in terror as he backed up against the wall. _Everyone _knew that Parseltongue was an evil language, only speak-able by the darkest of mages. You-Know-Who had spoken it, a few of the two-bit Dark Lords before him had as well, and most importantly, the Black Wizard himself had spoken it.

The image of an irate Boy-Who-Lived, angrily snarling at the crowd with a snake hissing from his shoulder was a terrifying one for the whole room. Combine that with the 's' accent he was using that was stereotypically You-Know-Who—from what their parents had told them anyway—and it was even scarier.

Then Seigrain Fernandes had arrived and put a stop to it. The youngest member of the Wizard's Council, and now the latest Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher apparently, was just as impressive up close as everyone in the crowd expected. The young man was famous for never graduating Hogwarts. He'd simply shown up out of nowhere and taken his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s on the same day when he was thirteen, miraculously passing them with one of the highest scores in the last century. He'd wound up breaking the previous record for youngest N.E.W.T holder, and later youngest Wizard's Council member. If the rumors were true, he was going to possibly be allowed to join the Wizard Saints, which were the most powerful mages in society. Every True Wizard or True Witch had been a member of the group, and the majority of the most famous names in Magical History belonged to the group's members.

The Professor had spoken with gravitas and managed to convince everyone in the crowd that they were at fault. This didn't last for long for many of the students, who began to grumble and mutter angrily on the way back to their compartments. Ron was no exception.

"I can't believe it!" He exclaimed when he shut the door behind him. "Harry Potter on the bloody train and everyone goes to ask him questions. What does the git do? Shouts at us and nearly has his bloody pet _snake_ attack us!"

"You saw Harry Potter?" Aries asked curiously.

"Yes!" Ron shouted. "The git yelled at us when we tried to ask him questions _everyone_ wants to know the answer too and started _hissing_ at us with a snake on his shoulder!"

"So he _is _a Parselmouth?" Juvia questioned, tilting her head to the side slightly.

"Sure seemed like it," Ron nodded, anger still evident on his face.

"He even had a snake?" Neville asked fearfully.

"Yeah, the thing was bloody scary! He'd kept it under his cloak until he started yelling at us, but then it popped out and started hissing at everyone. I'm surprised it didn't bite anyone, it was so mad looking!" Ron replied.

"That sounds really scary!" Lisanna added.

"How many people were there?" Juvia said searchingly. It was almost like she was looking for a reason to blame the crowd!

Ron stood there for a moment, remembering the crushing number of people in the compartment, then realized that he wouldn't come off very well if he said how many people were there. Maybe she had a reason to blame them? No! It was Potter's fault. He was probably going to be a bloody Phantom!

"Not too many." He lied easily.

"Hmm…" Juvia muttered in quiet disbelief. Ron didn't notice.

"What did he look like?" Lisanna interjected curiously.

"He had this weird hair that switched from pink to purple, the scar was there too, and… that's it really." Ron said as a description.

"Was he cute?" Aries asked mischievously, elbowing Juvia with a knowing smirk. Juvia blushed slightly at the attention but didn't add anything.

"Gah!" Ron exclaimed in disgust. "Why would I have noticed that?!"

"Well… Do you want an honest answer or a nice one?" Aries replied, a cheeky smile plastered on her face.

"How about we just drop it pinkie?" Ron stated uncomfortably. He did _not_ like what the girl was implying.

"Oh Ronald, you wound me so! I was just joking!" Aries explained, placing the palm of her hand over her mouth to mask her giggles. It wasn't working.

"You remind me of the twins Aries," Neville muttered quietly.

"Thank you!" She exclaimed happily. "Those two are wonderful role models! The only person cooler is my big brother!"

Ron plopped down with an annoyed expression and began to brood silently. He clearly wasn't happy about the lack of sympathy. The rest of the group ignored that and went about their business. Aries began counting landmarks with Lisanna, Neville began flipping through a book about magical creatures, Juvia began to read her father's early printing of the family newspaper, and Ron eventually gave up pouting—choosing instead to look at the latest copy of Quidditch Weekly.

Quite suddenly, the door opened, revealing Harry Potter.

"Hello," He began. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

The ginger from before turned a shade of purple Harry'd only ever seen his uncle turn—which he'd eventually learned was called puce—and looked ready to _attack_ him. Thankfully, the pink-haired girl spoke up before the boy could do anything.

"Hello, Harry Potter." She said cheerily.

"Err, hello," Harry said awkwardly. He hadn't expected friendliness. No doubt the ginger had badmouthed him to his friends.

"C-can we see your snake?" Neville stuttered nervously. "I've always wanted to mee-"

"Neville!" The pink-haired girl interrupted the boy Harry now knew was called 'Neville.' "It seems I was wrong about Ron being the deviant in our group!"

"W-what?! No! That's not what I meant!" Neville practically shouted from a face that had surpassed tomatoes with its redness. "I just like magical creatures! You know that!"

"I'd rather I knew the names of everyone else in the compartment before I show off my snake," Harry said cheekily before he could stop himself, causing his hair to shift to purple.

'Oh my god… Did I actually just say that?' Harry thought in horror as he felt his cheeks begin to redden a bit.

The blue-haired girl's quiet giggle broke the awkward silence that had erupted as a result of Harry's joke.

"It's nice to see that Juvia's fiance has a sense of humor." The blue-haired girl stated.

And just like that, the silence had returned. Well, with the exception of the other teens' jaws hitting the floor, which made a _'crack'_ sound that was likely not healthy.

"He's your fiance?!" The white-haired girl shrieked at the blue-haired girl.

"Yes, didn't Juvia mention that? She told Aries a few months ago." Juvia asked with an expressionless head-tilt. For some reason, the girl kept using the third person to reference herself.

"Excuse me," Harry interjected as he took a step back. "I think I just entered the twilight zone or some kind of weird fever dream because of my excitement about going to Hogwarts, so I'm just gonna leave before things get any more ridiculous."

"Juvia speaks the truth, Harry Potter. Отец(Ahtezch) told her to bring a copy of the contract as proof. It's in Juvia's bag if you'd like to see it." Juvia stated with a light blush. "Your grandfather saved my grandfather's life, so Juvia's family owes yours a debt. Grandfather decided a marriage contract would solve the issue. Yours agreed to the contract."

"Y-you're kidding… right?" Harry stuttered slightly.

'Contract? The hell does she mean contract? I know Earthland is different and all, but there can't possibly be _marriage contracts_ here! Besides, we're barely teenagers!' He thought to himself.

"Just leave Potter. I've no idea what Juvia's talking about, but no one wants you or your bloody snake here!" Ron suddenly exclaimed. The ginger's temper had finally reached a boiling point.

"I'm p-pretty sure Juvia at least wants him here Ron," Neville suggested. "Marriage contracts are _really_ serious family business. Do you want us to leave Juvia?"

"Oh no, there's no need for that Neville," Juvia replied nonchalantly. "Besides, Juvia thinks one of his other Fiancees is showing up right now."

Suddenly, a loud banging sound erupted from the door behind Harry. It was knocking, but much too loud to be polite. The door slid open shortly after the knocking, revealing a tall scarlet-haired girl that looked just a little older than the other teens in the room. She was dressed in a silver breastplate that had a yellow cross engraved over the left side of her chest, a red skirt, leather boots, and the school cloak over her shoulders. She had features that seemed an odd mix of a high-born Asian woman and those of a classical European woman. It somehow mingled in just the right way to look pretty instead of weird.

"Are you Harry Potter?" She asked Harry tersely.

"Err…" Harry mumbled for a moment in his surprise.

The girl swiftly gripped Harry by the neck of his shirt and pulled his head forward, meeting it with the top of her own in a violent headbutt. Harry stumbled backward as Arto shifted out of Harry's cloak to hiss threateningly and the rest of the compartment's occupants gasped, with the notable exception of Juvia who remained blank-faced.

"I said: Are. You. Harry. Potter?" The red-haired girl demanded.

"Yes!" Harry shouted, hoping to avoid another headbutt.

The girl nodded once and brought her right hand up in front of her chest, pausing there for a moment.

"I am Erza Scarlet, and due to the fact that my ancestors owe your family a debt, your fiancée." She declared.

A gleaming silver rapier appeared in her right hand.

"So, prepare to die."

The girl lunged forward, stabbing the sword toward Harry's chest. Harry stepped backward reflexively since there was no way to step to the side. A shimmering barrier of water condensed in front of him, blocking Erza's second attempted strike.

"Why do you want to end our Fiance's life, Erza Scarlet? Juvia doesn't see many wrackspurts around your head, nor any buzzmies; not even a phlarble."

"'Our Fiance..?'" Erza echoed hollowly. Her face twisted into a grimace of disgust as a spear appeared in the air behind her, flying forward and banging on the watery shield. "You're a womanizer too?!"

"Do you have any idea what's going on Aries?" Lisanna whispered to the pink-haired girl.

"Just the first of the many catfights that will occur over Harry Potter. He's rich, he's cute, and he's famous. This is gonna happen a lot." Aries replied with a smug grin. "It'll be hilarious to watch, and we've got front row seats for the next seven years!"

"S-should we try and calm them down?" Neville asked.

"I say we let the evil arse deal with it," Ron stated. "I just wish they'd have their yelling match somewhere else.

"Let's just be quiet and watch the cat-fight!" Aries suggested. "This is way better than counting birds and houses!"

"Um, would someone _please_ explain what the bloody _hell_ is going on?!" Harry shouted, oblivious to the conversation behind him.

"Don't try and claim innocence!" Erza spat.

"I'm not claiming innocence, I'm claiming ignorance!" Harry replied angrily. "I didn't even know this bloody world _had_ marriage contracts!"

Thankfully, the compartments had an enchantment that didn't allow sound to leave them, although it did let it in. If it wasn't for these enchantments, an even bigger horde than last time would've descended upon Harry. He was a celebrity discussing marriage after all.

The rapier lowered slightly from the ready position and the scarlet-haired girl's glare shifted to an expression of suspicion.

"Truly?" She asked. "You have no idea what's going on right now?"

"Our fiance isn't stupid Erza Scarlet, he has to have some idea of what's going on based upon what he's been shown," Juvia stated logically.

"How would you know water-girl? He could be dumb as a stump for all you know!" Erza responded.

"Oi!" Harry exclaimed.

"Why, because of his lack of wrackspurts of course! They practically avoid him." Juvia replied.

"Wrackspurts?" Harry mutter in confusion before shaking his head and snarking sarcastically. "Hey, can I join the conversation now, or am I not allowed?"

Erza glared at him again, but Juvia gave a small smile at his commentary.

"Of course you can Harry Potter, Juvia should think that you'd be allowed in a conversation about yourself," Juvia said calmly.

"Alright, first of all. What're these marriage contracts you mentioned, and why do they affect any of us? We're all thirteen!" Harry questioned.

"They are magically bound contracts that state that two families will be joined by the marriage of their heirs, assuming they're born as opposite sexes. That hasn't happened until this generation, as the Lovegood family and the Potter family have had male heirs since the creation of the contract." Juvia explained.

"And there's no way out of it?" Harry asked.

"How dare you!" Erza shouted angrily. "I'd thought that as a fellow orphan, you'd understand the value of whatever is left by our families! I was wrong."

Harry whipped around and gave the scarlet-haired girl the harshest glare he could muster. To his shock, the girl actually flinched backward.

"Don't you dare suggest I don't value what my parents left me," Harry said coldly. "I doubt they would have locked me into a contract that removed my freedom, so I assumed it was some stupid previous head of the family that did it. Every family that goes back far enough has to have one eventually. Besides, if you value what your ancestors left you so much, why would you try and kill me, which I'm pretty sure would invalidate the contract since I'm the only Potter."

The scarlet-haired girl lowered her head in shame before replying.

"Y-you're right, Mr. Potter. I shouldn't have tried to attack you." Erza muttered. "I wasn't thinking clearly, as I just found out about this… contract, this week. I apologize. Please hit me as repayment."

Harry was unable to react to that… unusual comment… as Juvia began speaking shortly after Erza finished.

"Juvia is sorry you feel that way, Harry Potter. There is no way she is aware to avoid such a contract, as they are magically bound. Although you are in the unique circumstance of having multiple contracts affecting you, so Juvia could be wrong." The blue-haired girl interjected somewhat… coldly? Why would she be upset? "Oh, and it would invalidate the contract. Your death Juvia means."

'Multiple? Wait, doesn't that mean more than two most of the time?' Harry thought to himself.

"When you say multiple…" Harry began as he felt a chill creeping up his spine. How many girls was he engaged too?! Was his family crazy?!

"Отец(Ahtezch) asked the goblins when he discovered the contract in our vault. They keep track of these things if a family pays them, which most of the moderately wealthy or above do. The goblins said you had a good amount of active contracts and refused to tell Отец(Ahtezch) without being paid quite a bit." Juvia explained.

"Wait, I went to Gringotts a week ago. Why didn't they mention any of this to me?" Harry asked.

"The goblins expect their customers to know everything about their accounts, Harry Potter. They only inform you when something changes."

"Oh…" Harry trailed off. "So… what now then?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" Erza said bitterly.

"How about you all bugger off to your own compartment?!" Ron shouted. "I just want to look at my Quidditch magazine in peace, damnit!"

"Aw… It was just starting to get good, Ronniekins," Aries stated.

"I-it would be nice to have some quiet," Neville said hopefully. "Besides, it's really none of our business Aries."

"That is _very_ true, uhh… What's your name? Actually, what're all your names. I got blindsided with whatever just happened before you could introduce yourselves," Harry explained wearily. "I'm Harry Potter, although you probably knew that already."

**§ **What'ssss going on Little Masssster? Everyone issss calm now, but Princccessss attacked you before. **§ **Arto suddenly piped up, startling the entirety of the compartment.

Harry turned toward the feathered snake, whose head was just peeking out from under his cloak.

**§ **It wassss a missssundersssstanding Arto. They are… acquaintancccesss… **§ ** Harry explained to the snake.

**§ **Very well. But tell Princccessss I will bite her if sssshe triessss again.**§ **

Harry nodded before turning back to the frightened members of the compartment, who were all staring at him with some amount of horror. Juvia was simply unsettled, Neville was frightened yet curious, Ron was angry, Aries and Lisanna were horrified, and Erza was trying _very_ hard to not seem afraid. It only worked so well.

"What?" Harry asked in confusion. "Oh yeah, everyone's scared of snakes here, I keep forgetting."

"W-what did it say?" Neville asked nervously.

"He just wanted to know why 'Princess,' was attacking me," Harry explained. "Any idea why he called you that, Ms… Oh yeah, I still don't know anyone's full name."

"I have no idea why he would call me that Mr. Potter. My family barely qualifies as a noble one, and fell out of favor a few decades ago." Erza replied. "And my name is Erza Scarlet, hajimemashte."

"Is that… Japanese?" Harry asked.

"I… I think that's what the language is called. My father used to speak it to me when I was little. A few phrases stuck. That one means 'Nice to meet you.'" Erza explained.

"I-I'm Neville Longbottom. T-the name didn't translate well from Norse." Neville said suddenly, awkwardly timing his interjection.

"I'm his little sister Lisanna!" The white-haired girl added.

"Name's Aries Astra, nice ta meetcha." The pink-haired girl stated. She smacked the back of the ginger's head as she continued to speak. "Go ahead and introduce yourself, Ronald. He doesn't seem… _too_ bad."

"_Ronald Weasley_," The boy ground out. He was obviously quite unhappy to be speaking.

"Juvia Lovegood," Juvia interjected.

"Can you leave now?" Ron said with a hopeful expression.

'Now that I think about it… Can't I just sit on my trunk out in the hallway? If I put the hood up on the cloak, people won't notice that I'm me.' The currently purple-haired teen thought.

"Sure," Harry said aloud, as his hair changed to pink. "I'm sure we'll see each other at school sometime, Ms. Lovegood, Ms. Scarlet."

Harry turned around and brushed past Erza, grabbing his trunk from the floor, where he'd dropped it when the scarlet-haired girl had attacked him. He walked quickly and was out of the larger compartment in seconds.

"Did his hair just turn pink?" Lisanna asked.

"I'm pretty sure it did…" Aries replied.

"It was pink when he entered the compartment. Juvia saw it turn purple when he made his joke." Juvia added.

"Just means he's weirder than we thought," Ron said dismissively.

Erza ignored the group and stepped out of the compartment wordlessly, setting off in the direction Harry had gone.

"Are you sure you want to let her follow him?" Aries asked Juvia. "She's your competition."

"Yes. They both need a friend more than Juvia." The blue-haired girl replied cryptically.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

Erza stomped out of the small compartment to follow the boy who was, through a fluke of fate, her fiance.

'How dare he?' She thought angrily. 'I might've been a bit rude with my greeting, but he should not have just _left_ without even speaking to me! I am most certainly not done speaking with that, that, that baka!'

Erza continued her mental rant as she stepped into the next compartment, then the next, and a few more after that.

'Where did he go?!' She thought as she stepped into what she knew was the last larger compartment.

She had checked the various smaller compartments as she walked, and most were full of random students she didn't recognize. Many of the people in the compartments had glared at her as she peered into their rooms. Most of the people who glared were dressed in purple cloaks, with a few being garbed in red. Those wearing blue didn't notice her as they were mostly buried nose-first into their textbooks, and the ones in brown didn't seem to care—preferring to focus on their rowdy antics.

Ahead of her, she heard a tired sigh, followed by some familiar hissing. It was incredibly unnerving for Erza. You-Know-Who was almost a natural disaster in the way he tore through Fiore's society, and like all natural disasters—he left scars on those who endured his presence. Erza didn't remember any details personally, but fear of that man was almost rabid among society, and it had deeply infiltrated her generation. How could it not? They saw it in their parents, or in orphans like her, the adults that surrounded them.

Hearing the Boy-Who-Lived, speaking Parseltongue—which everyone associated with You-Know-Who—was incredibly startling, if not flat out frightening.

The sound had come from just outside the train car she was in, which meant that Harry was sitting on the back of the train for some reason… where there was no seating. Why was he there? Didn't he realize anyone would be happy to have him in their compartment? He really was different from what she expected.

'What did I expect of him anyway?' Erza thought as she paused a few feet from the door to the back of the train. 'Some sort of snobbish noble who expected me to kowtow to his every whim? Well… he might be like that, but he didn't _seem_ the type.'

"Enough," She muttered to herself.

Erza stepped forward and pulled the door open. Harry was sitting on his trunk, using it as a makeshift chair, and had his school robe pulled up so that his face was harder to see. He had a sketchbook out, with a simple sketching pencil in his hand. He'd obviously been drawing something when she interrupted him by stepping out.

"Is there something you needed Ms. Scarlet?" He asked politely. From what she could see of his face he looked incredibly annoyed with her presence.

"I-" Erza stuttered. Why had she been so angry earlier? He was clearly just as upset about the situation as she was.

"I thought we should talk some more." The girl continued after a moment's pause. "Just because we've found ourselves in this… situation… doesn't mean we can't attempt to be civil with each other."

A single pink eyebrow raised in surprise.

"Really?" He said somewhat disbelievingly. "I thought you had made your opinion rather clear with your attitude in the compartment. This is not at all what I expected."

"I… I _am_ sorry about that. I might not have been convincing earlier, but I shouldn't have done that." Erza replied with a light blush on her cheeks. It was not one of her better decisions. "After I thought a bit more, I realized you were just as uncomfortable with our… engagement… as I am."

Had Harry blushed slightly when she mentioned the engagement, or was that just the lighting? Erza wasn't pretty in her opinion, and that of many other girls she'd met. With the armor she always wore and her aggressive personality she knew she was unlikely to have a relationship in the future. What little thought she'd given the idea had allowed her to give up on finding someone, and pushed her into focusing on becoming a quality mage.

"Right. That makes some sense." Harry agreed awkwardly, startling Erza out of her thoughts. "So… friends for now then?"

"Err, yes. I think that would be ideal." Erza responded slowly. She didn't have any friends in the classic sense. She had a few acquaintances, a flat-chested goth bitch as a rival, and some people that happened to learn from the same teacher back home.

The concept of an actual friend was new, and it sounded… appealing. So she smiled at Harry and pulled one of her suitcases out of thin air to sit on, setting it down opposite Harry. For some reason, Harry had an utterly goofy smile on his face, and his hair was now purple.

"So… What should we talk about?" Harry asked somewhat nervously, which struck Erza as odd. He'd had the gall to glare at her after she'd tried to attack him, so he was definitely not a nervous person like that Longbottom fellow.

"...You mentioned that you didn't know about magic until recently?" Erza said as a suggestion.

"Oh, I guess that works." Harry nodded with a somewhat dimmer smile and then began to describe some generics of his childhood as well as the misadventures he'd had since being introduced to Earthland.

The day was going much better than Erza had expected.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

Harry walked out of the compartment at a relaxed pace, transitioning to a quiet run. He just wanted to be alone, so he could process what he'd just learned. He did _not_ want to risk that Erza girl chasing after him. She'd seemed angry enough to do it when he left, so hopefully he'd be able to get to a place she wouldn't expect. Perhaps the end of the train? That way he wouldn't have to deal with other people either.

Soon, he was seated on his trunk at the end of the train, with his sketchbook out and pencil in hand. He began to draw the lower edge of his sketchbook, with his thumb sticking over the edge. It was a good way to mindlessly practice his sense of scale.

**§ **What hassss upsssset you sssso, Little Masssster? **§ **Arto piped up.

Harry sighed loudly and rested his hands in his lap.

**§ **Two-legssss have different wayssss of raissssing their nesssstlingssss. The ssssire and mother sssstay to teach the nesssstling what it musssst know. The issssue issss, my ssssire'ssss ssssire decccided who would be my mate. **§ **Harry said, trying to explain human issues to someone utterly without any human common sense.

**§ **How issss that a problem? You don't need to put any effort into finding a mate now. **§ **Arto replied in confusion.

**§ **The problem issss that two-legssss are ssssuppossssed to find their own matessss. Bessssidessss, I'm too young to be looking for one. **§ **Harry responded.

**§ **Ah. I can ssssee how that could be problematic. **§ **Arto stated simply. **§ **Sssstill, it issss ssssimple. Jusssst decide if you want her to be your mate. **§ **

**§ **If only it was that eassssy… **§ **Harry muttered. 'And there was only one to choose from…'

It was at this moment that one of the two sources of his current problem decided to step out of the train and look at him. He nearly cussed, but managed to keep it in. Barely.

"Is there something you needed Ms. Scarlet?" He asked politely.

'Please leave, please leave, please leave,' Harry begged mentally.

"I-" The girl stuttered.

'Seriously? She came here and didn't even know what she wanted to say?' He thought. He would've snorted, but knew that would have drawn attention.

"I thought we should talk some more." The girl continued. "Just because we've found ourselves in this… situation… doesn't mean we can't attempt to be civil with each other."

He could feel one of his eyebrows raising in disbelief. She couldn't _possibly_ be serious.

"Really?" He said, only managing to partially hide his disbelief. "I thought you had made your opinion rather clear with your attitude in the compartment. This is not at all what I expected."

"I… I _am_ sorry about that. I might not have been convincing earlier, but I shouldn't have done that." The girl responded, blushing a bit for some reason. "After I thought a bit more, I realized you were just as uncomfortable with our… engagement… as I am."

The word engagement instantly made him uncomfortable, drawing to mind the fact that he was technically in a _relationship_ with the incredibly pretty scarlet-haired girl in front of him. What? He was a teenager, he couldn't help noticing if a girl's face looked nice or if her chest was quite lar-

Harry nearly shook his head to stop following the path his traitorous hormonally stuffed brain was dragging him. He instead chose to continue speaking.

"Right. That makes some sense." Harry agreed awkwardly. Hopefully, the girl didn't notice his reflexive—and hopefully discreet—look. "So… friends for now then?"

"Err, yes. I think that would be ideal." Erza responded slowly.

'S-she actually wants to be my friend?' Harry thought incredulously. He'd mostly just said that to try and be polite and to keep the silence from becoming more awkward. His hair had shifted to purple without him noticing.

"So… What should we talk about?" Harry asked somewhat nervously. He had no bloody clue what friends talked about. The few times he'd tried to make friends, Dudley had always put a stop to it by warning off the other kid, or well… bullying them until they left.

"...You mentioned that you didn't know about magic until recently?" Erza suggested.

'That's… not ideal. Oh well, I'll try and describe it in a way that's… normal?'

"Oh, I guess that works." Harry nodded, then began to attempt and describe his experiences with learning about magic and minimizing everything involving the Dursleys.

The duo ended up spending a few hours speaking, which was something that—to Harry's shock—he found himself enjoying. Erza was far more intelligent than any girl he'd ever interacted with, although that wasn't saying much—with one notable exception, and far less annoying than the Granger girl—who was the aforementioned exception— he'd met during his trip to Diagon Alley.

They'd started with how he'd been introduced to the fact that he was magical, and then segued into his trip into Diagon Alley. Erza had chuckled when he'd described his interaction with Malfoy in the clothing shop. According to her, he was the son of a very important noble.

"So, what about you?" Harry asked once he'd finished describing his trip to Diagon Alley and the relevant details as to why he was raised on Earth.

"What do you mean?" Erza replied.

"Well, I don't really know anything about you. I just told you a bit about me, so it's your turn now… I think. Not really sure how any of this stuff works." Harry explained.

"I...I suppose that makes sense. Very well. What do you wish to know?" Erza asked.

"Uhm…" Harry muttered. He hadn't really thought out what he'd say. He'd just expected her to monologue a bit as he'd done.

'Show's what I know about people I guess.' He thought to himself.

"Ah!" He exclaimed. "What were those weapons you… summoned? Created? Well, whatever you did to attack me earlier. I've not seen anything like it in our textbooks."

"Oh, I suppose you wouldn't recognize it. You're still new to magic," Erza nodded. "Well, to summarize, it was my personal branch of holder magick: Requip. It lets me put various things that I understand the function of into a pocket dimension, and recall them to me within a certain radius around me. I mixed a small amount of the caster magick I know to make the spear float."

"Alright…" Harry said uncertainly. "Is it something I can learn? I haven't found much basic info on what holder magick actually is. All the textbooks assume the reader has a basic understanding of it."

"Technically, yes. I think it would be better if I explained what holder magick is first, however." Erza responded.

Harry nodded and made a 'continue' motion with his hand.

"Holder magick is any kind of magic that doesn't require a gaunt to use, and that requires an inherent talent to use it at all. For example, the Ice Make magic that the Malfoy family is famous for is only usable by those with an affinity for it, and it doesn't require a gaunt to use any of its spells." Erza explained. "Neither you nor I could use it, as we don't have an affinity for Ice Make magic. Well, you might since you haven't been tested, but it's unlikely. Holder magic tends to run in families, and the Potter family is not known for any kind of elemental Make magic."

"So, given that explanation, why could I learn Requip magic?" Harry asked.

"Requip magic is odd in that it's normally a supplementary holder magick. It can be used by anyone who has their own branch of holder magic. Most can only go so far with it, however, as it isn't their main field of holder magic. As such, it's usually just used as a glorified backpack. I am an anomaly, as I don't have another branch of Holder magic that I can use. Instead, I am much more able to use Requip magic than most."

"Ah… That makes sense then," Harry said, before nervously continuing. "Would you- Would you mind teaching me a bit?"

He'd never _asked_ anyone to give him something. Well, he had when he was five, but the Dursleys had quickly shown him why he shouldn't do so again. He'd never forgotten the rant he'd been subjected to, even if he realized its stupidity now that he was older.

"S-sure," Erza replied, again with a light blush. Why was she blushing? Did he do something awkward again?

"Is everything okay Ms. Scarlet?" He asked politely. "You seem rather red."

The girl shook her head rapidly, whipping her hair around, before replying.

"I'm fine. It's nothing." The girl stated. She still looked somewhat embarrassed but wasn't blushing any more. "And call me Erza. I think Ms. Scarlet is a little too impersonal for friends, don't you?"

Harry nodded slowly, a little taken aback.

"Agreed," Harry said. "But call me Harry."

Both of them just stared at each other for a few awkward moments, completely unsure of what to do now. After about ten seconds, Erza broke the silence.

"The first thing you need to know about Requip magic is that it's easy to overcomplicate it…" The girl began.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

A few hours passed with Harry making little progress in learning Requip magic. It was much more difficult for him to learn than he'd expected. His magic wasn't being pulled on by his gaunt, and he had no idea how to direct it himself yet. Eventually, an announcement rang out across the train that they were nearly there. A minute or so after the notification, the train went through a massive white portal, which shut behind them. Sitting on the back of the train was the best decision Harry could have made, as he got to directly see all the swirling colors that surrounded them inside the portal, which then spit the train out a second later.

"That was awesome!" Harry exclaimed.

"I must admit, it was quite beautiful," Erza replied.

The train continued for a little longer, and then followed the tracks out onto the sea. Which was so clear Harry could almost see the bottom, several hundred feet below him. The compartment door suddenly opened behind him and Erza, and they were sucked back into the train, luggage and all. The door slammed shut behind them, locking with a click.

"Ow.." Harry groaned. Erza had landed on top of him in an awkward position, her forehead had slammed into his for the second time that day, but unlike last time it was followed by her sturdy chest plate. Lastly, her knee had wound up smacking into his crotch.

"Are you okay?" Erza asked worriedly. Unfortunately, she hadn't moved yet, and her face was right in front of Harry's. A small part of him loved the situation, but that part was instantly shoved down.

"J-just get off me please," Harry grunted. "You're really heavy."

She leaned backward, with an oddly angry expression (what had he done now?!), and pushed herself up by putting all her weight onto her knee… which was on his crotch. He yelped in pain and scrambled backward.

"What was that for?!" He exclaimed indignantly.

"Did no one teach you any manners?" Erza replied angrily.

'No, but I doubt she'd believe that answer,' Harry thought to himself.

"I have no idea what I did wrong just now. I just wanted you off me 'cause it hurt." Harry explained.

"You really have no idea?" Erza responded in disbelief. "Well, some future advice for you. Never call attention to a girl's weight. Bad things happen to those who do."

'Seriously? She can't be serious. The weight of another person digging into you is practically the _definition_ of heavy! I wasn't insulting her!' Harry thought irritably.

"Good to know," He said aloud.

The train suddenly rumbled, and the whole thing began to steadily climb upwards. The angle never increased beyond a slight incline, but it was enough to notice. Both Harry and Erza turned to look outside through the back window, and what they saw astonished them. The train was actually climbing into the air. Already, it was a few hundred feet above the water and still climbing.

"Wow…" Harry muttered.

"Astounding," Erza stated in amazement.

"How did they even do this?" Harry thought aloud.

Erza gave him a _look_ in reply.

"Right," Harry said sheepishly. "Magic, duh."

The train continued to climb higher into the air for a short while, breaking through the clouds before it leveled out. The view was amazing.

Then the island came into sight. Harry couldn't believe it, but somehow they'd managed to use magic to hold up an entire _island_, with a forest taking up two thirds of the floating hunk of land, and castle grounds taking up the remaining third in the island's center. The forest was an unusual sight, with a clump of trees sticking quite a bit higher than the rest, and many being colored in almost unnatural colors—by earth standards anyway. A stream of water flowed from the forest, and off the island in several places, accentuating the magical look of the place. The river stemmed from a huge lake that was positioned on the edge between the forest and the castle.

The castle was just as odd as the rest of the island, with numerous turrets and parapets, several sprawling towers, a massive hall at its center, and many partially connected buildings strewn around the main building.

The setting sun reflected off the massive stained glass windows positioned on the wall of the centermost building, making a beautiful sight breathtaking.

"No wonder they don't just have students take a portal here…" Erza muttered.

"Yeah, it'd suck to miss this." Harry agreed.

The two students stood there for the next five minutes that it took the train to arrive at Hogwarts' station, staring out the door's window. Upon arriving, Harry put his hood back up—since he'd taken it down when Erza had begun to speak with him—and they'd both proceeded to the nearest exit on the train. Harry's luggage had disappeared with the notification that something called 'House Elves' would be taking them to their rooms. Erza had already placed her luggage back in her Requip space, so hers wasn't taken.

Thankfully, Harry wasn't noticed by anyone in the crowd, and they were able to get off the train unimpeded.

"Firs' years! Firs' years o'er 'ere!" A booming voice called.

Harry looked to the voice and saw the largest man he'd ever seen. Standing at close to ten feet, the man was well built, with copious amounts of bushy hair and a lumberjack's beard to match. He wore a long leather overcoat that had a mishmash of varied pockets haphazardly sewn onto it. In his hand was a massive lantern, obviously scaled to suit the man's impressive height. Oddly, directly above his head was floating, flowing, glowing script that read 'Hagrid, Gamekeeper.'

"What's with the text?" Harry asked Erza quietly.

"You see that trinket in his hair?" Erza replied.

The trinket was a silver ball that was clipped onto a knotted clump amongst many similar clumps in the man's messy hair.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed.

"It's a magical item that display's words above your head. Musicians and tour-guides tend to use them to make it easier for their audience to follow along. I've never seen one used as a name-tag, however." Erza explained.

"Well, it definitely can't be because they think we'd miss him in a crowd," Harry joked.

"You'd be surprised," Erza responded.

They both walked up toward the tall man, joining a crowd of students that were all of similar height to each other. They were all wearing black robes, unlike the other, usually taller, students that walked past the cluster. Every single older student had colored robes.

"Right, tha' e'ryone?" Hagrid asked the crowd.

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled out an umbrella from his pocket, pointing it toward the sky without lifting it above his head. A ball of light appeared at the umbrella's tip which launched away toward the students, bouncing onto the air just above their heads without returning to a single student. After it had gone through the crowd, the ball returned to Hagrid and turned a bright green color.

"Seems like it," The tall man muttered. "Thi' way then!"

The man walked away from the group, which began to jog to keep up with the man's huge strides. He led them down a well-lit cobbled-path which cut through the forest. The path led to a small, but well maintained, dock at the edge of the lake. The castle was obscured by a large amount of foliage that sprouted out of the right side of the lake.

Now that the students could stop their jog, almost half of them hunched over and panted from the exertion of chasing the giant man.

"Three teh a boat!" Hagrid ordered, pointing to the large rowboats that were positioned along the docks. None of the boats were rocking in the water and were instead perfectly still.

Harry and Erza both clambered into the boat. Harry offered his hand to help Erza into the boat, mimicking a scene he'd managed to glimpse on the telly a few weeks ago.

'Hopefully this is considered polite,' Harry thought mentally. He didn't notice the incredulous look Erza gave him, followed by the first complete blush of embarrassment she'd shown today.

The rest of the students clambered into boats when a familiar blue-haired girl walked up to Harry and Erza's boat.

"Do you mind if Juvia joins you?" She asked.

"Sure," Harry replied.

'Might as well. Maybe she's decent enough, like Erza turned out to be.'

He offered the girl his hand as he'd done for Erza. Juvia took it stoically and settled herself on the boat. Once the last student had situated themselves, the boats began to glide forward slowly. Hagrid had stepped into his own boat, which was larger than the rest, and his alone.

"Juvia is happy you two were able to become friends," The blue-haired girl said suddenly.

"Wha-" Harry began.

"How di-" Erza said simultaneously.

"Juvia gets feelings sometimes, about whether something good or bad will happen if she does one thing or another. It doesn't happen often, but Juvia listens when it does. One of those feelings told her to let Ms. Scarlet go without following." Juvia interrupted.

The boats floated around the foliage blocking the view before Harry or Erza could say anything further. The castle was incredible from above, but seeing it from a higher altitude prevented you from getting a proper sense of the building's scale. The boat ride fixed that.

"Kireina (Beautiful)…" Erza gasped.

"Wow…" Harry muttered.

Juvia simply smiled.

The boats continued gliding forward smoothly for a couple of minutes, eventually coming to a stop at a port similar to the first one.

"E'ryone cluster o'er there!" Hagrid ordered, pointing at a large tree standing ten feet from the port. To the left of the tree was a cobblestone path leading through a large field, that had hills sparsely positioned throughout it, and up to a massive set of double doors attached to the side of the castle's main building.

Harry stepped out of the boat and offered his hand to both girls again. The trio walked up to the tree, joining the steadily growing crowd of students. Once the group was assembled, Hagrid led them up the path toward the massive door, where he paused. He raised his giant fist and knocked heavily on the door, sending a booming sound echoing throughout the field. A moment later, the right side door swung inward, revealing Professor McGonagall—who now had a black witch's hat on, unlike when Harry had last seen her.

"The firs' years Perfessor," Hagrid declared.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here. Your seat is waiting for you," The Professor replied.

Hagrid nodded and stepped into the castle, walking off into its depths. Professor McGonagall led the students into the atrium, closing the door with a flick of her wrist once they were all inside.

"Welcome students," She began. "Tonight is the Opening Feast, but first we will begin with the Sorting. You will be placed in one of four houses, which will serve as your Mage Guild for the rest of your life, unless you decide to leave it after graduating, and if you let it—it will be your family for your seven years at this institution."

She stared at them all for a moment, then continued speaking.

"The four houses will be defined once the sorting begins," Professor McGonagall stated, "I will return momentarily, as I will be informing the hall that we are ready."

The old woman walked off, down the long hallway that was directly in front of them. It led to a 't' intersection, which she took a left at. As soon as the authority figure was out of sight, all the teens began talking. It was so well timed it seemed coordinated.

"Did you hear? Harry Potter was on the train!" Some random person said.

"I heard he had fangs, and that he tried to maul someone!" Another person added.

"No, no, he had a snake that did that. He fought a teacher when they tried to stop his rampage," A third stated with utmost certainty.

With every comment, Harry's shoulders began to droop comically, eventually stopping at the limit of the human range of motion.

"Don't let them get to you," Juvia said quietly. "They will learn better soon enough."

"Thanks, Juvia," Harry replied in an equally quiet tone. "Wait! Sorry, I shouldn't have started with your first name, that's rude here, isn't it? Pretty sure I read that somewhere…"

'Damn, I was so good at remembering that for most of the day! I can't believe I slipped up now,' Harry thought in frustration.

"It's fine, Juvia doesn't mind." The blue-haired girl replied. "As long as she can call you Harry."

"Yeah, I don't mind," Harry answered.

The girl nodded and returned to waiting. A minute or so passed when many of the students gasped, while some yelled. Ghosts had floated through the wall. The first was an old man dressed in a cloak, with a dark vest underneath it. He wore studded bangles and a necklace that had three similar studs on the center of it, with the center stud being twice the size of the other two. The second was also a man. Instead of long hair he had moderate length hair, was dressed in a dress shirt, and had a long flowing cloak that had dark star-like highlights extending out from the raised collar. The cloak had skull patterns peeking out from beneath the folds the highlights created. In addition to normal, if highly decorated, clothing he had a pair of welder's goggles on over a dark mask that melded to his features perfectly. Both ghosts were somewhat transparent and colored in varying shades of silver.

"I'm telling you, Spinner, I heard first years this way!" The one with a mask exclaimed dramatically, extending his arms out to the side as he turned around to look at his companion, transforming his forward float to a backward float.

"Yes, yes, and I believe you were correct. They're right behind you Skull," The one that had been called 'Spinner' replied calmly.

'Skull' spun around quickly, raising his left hand to adjust his goggles.

"Ah! It seems you were correct," The man stated. "Hello new students! Welcome to Hogwarts!"

"W-who're you?" One of the braver first years asked warily.

"Why, I am Skull, resident house ghost of Phantom Lord! It was my guild you know, so you should definitely join it. Well, only if you're talented anyway." Skull suggested.

"Please excuse him," 'Spinner' interrupted. "He always gets excited at the prospect of new guild members."

"You wound me, Spinner!" Skull said, miming an arrow flying into his heart.

"I am Spinner, the house ghost of Lamia Scale," Spinner continued, ignoring Skull's antics. "I will not try and espouse the glories of my guild. If you belong there, you will seek it out yourself."

"That's no fun Spinner! You have to tempt them with cunning, then threaten them if they don't comply!" Skull stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Professor McGonagall chose that moment to walk back into the atrium. She glared at both ghosts and gave them a dismissive wave.

"Go back to your tables gentlemen, you know the first years need to get to the Sorting," She ordered.

"Fine, fine, ignore four hundred years of ghostly tradition why don't you?" Skull muttered as he and Spinner floated away.

"Have no fear, they cannot and will not hurt you," The Professor explained after the ghosts had left. "They are merely observers, and occasionally advisors."

Most of the students nodded.

"Now, it's time for the sorting. Follow me," The Professor ordered.

Professor McGonagall led the students down the hallway she'd gone down previously, taking a right instead of the previous left. A few more turns and the group had arrived at a large set of double doors, about half the size of the one's that they'd gone through to enter the castle.

"Once we enter, you are to remain in a group. I will call your name, then you will come up to be sorted," The Professor ordered. This time she gave them a sharp look, as if she expected someone to contradict her. When no one did, she made a flicking motion with her hand, sending both of the massive double doors open.

Inside the massive hall were five tables, four of which were placed in a column position—relative to the door—and the fifth was placed horizontally at the end of the hall on a slightly elevated platform, with its back to several large stained glass windows. The windows had intricate patterns upon them, but no recognizable shape. At the end of each of the four vertical tables was a steel totem. The hall itself was lit by a massive amount of candles, each exuding far more light than they should be able to.

The table to the far left was full of students with red robes and had a red banner with an orange fairy-like pattern on it hanging from both sides of its totem. The table to the red table's right had students in brown robes, with a brown banner with a golden four written on it in gothic script hanging from both sides of its totem. The table to the right of the brown table had students in blue robes, with a blue banner with a green pattern reminiscent of a… mermaid? Harry couldn't quite tell. The fourth table, at the far right of the hall, had students dressed in dark purple robes, and a dark purple banner with a lighter purple pattern that looked like a capital 'c' had been turned on its side, had a dot placed in its center, and a swirling tail drawn off the bottom.

The fifth table had no banner but was much smaller. Instead of a crowd of students, it had very unique looking individuals sitting at it. One looked very similar to a goblin, another was dressed in all black and had a heavily hooked nose, a third was a plump middle-aged woman dressed like a gardener. There were more figures there, both recognizable—like Professor Fernandes and Hagrid—and others less so, like a woman with short spiky hair and flight goggles on her forehead.

The most notable was undoubtedly the man who sat at the center of the head table. He was dressed in dark blue robes, _true_ robes that looked straight out of a children's book, and a matching wizard's hat. All of his clothing had animated patterns of stars and a crescent moon, which fluttered about whimsically from hat to sleeve, to the bottom hem of the robe, and back again. The man himself was old, incredibly so—with easily visible wrinkles and laugh-lines—and had an oddly bent nose that looked like it had been broken without being set properly. He had an incredibly long silver beard that he'd actually wrapped around his belt to keep it from touching the floor. For some reason, Harry felt like he'd seen the man before, but he knew there was no possible way for that to be true.

To Harry's amusement, the old man stood up suddenly—moving with a grace that was unnatural for a man so old—and raised his arms dramatically. All sound in the hall stopped, even the quiet chattering of students searching the first years for the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Welcome!" The old man said jovially, his voice carrying all the way across the hall. "It is wonderful to see so many new faces this year. In fact, I do believe I haven't seen this sheer number since thirty years ago!"

"Who is that?" Harry muttered quietly to Erza and Juvia.

"Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful man in Fiore and the Headmaster of Hogwarts," Juvia replied.

"Now be quiet, he's still speaking!" Erza ordered.

"Now, it is time to begin the sorting," Dumbledore continued. He gave a brief look in exactly Harry's direction during the pause he took.

'There's no way he could've heard me!' Harry thought in disbelief.

The old man's eyes twinkled brightly, almost as if in reply.

"So please, remain seated," Dumbledore requested in a kind tone that belied the order in his words. "I am well aware of how hungry teenagers can become, but this will take but a short while, then we may begin the feast."

The man sat back down with the same grace he'd shown upon standing, giving a gesture to Professor McGonagall that probably meant 'please continue,' but came across as him knocking over his empty goblet.

"Ah, excuse me," He said with a smile.

Professor McGonagall shook her head in a show of fond exasperation as she walked up to the head table. She made a few quick gestures with her hand, causing a stage to rise between the head table and the house tables. An old weathered stool flew from the wall, coming to a stop in the center of the stage. The woman stepped onto the stage and walked behind the stool, pausing a few feet behind it.

**CAWWWW!**

The loud cry of a bird echoed throughout the hall, coming from seemingly nowhere. The flame of the candles began to flow away from their wicks, plunging the room into darkness but for the pale light of the moon outside the hall and the barely there embers on top of the candles. The flame coalesced into a steadily growing orb of fire a few feet above the stage, twisting and turning and giving off the appearance that a dimmer sun had descended from the heavens to grace the hall with its presence alone. Then the orb exploded, re-lighting every single candle in the hall with pinpoint accuracy. In place of the miniature sun was a bird that appeared to be made of tamed fire. It was twisted around in the shape of feathers, leaving a beautiful long tail—reminiscent of an exotic bird of earth, but far more beautiful. Hanging from its talons was an ancient looking wizard's hat, which was somehow not burning despite its proximity to the bird of flame.

The bird gracefully glided downward in slow circles with its wings extended, dropping the hat effortlessly into McGonagall's hands. It then beat its wings once, sending heat flashing throughout the room and carrying it through the air toward the Headmaster, landing gracefully on the six-foot tall perch that was suddenly to the left of Dumbledore's chair.

"Thank you, Fawkes," Dumbledore said with a smile.

Every single first year was gaping in awe at the beautiful creature, while the older students were smiling knowingly at the 'ickle firsties.' Every single first year now knew they wanted a pet like Fawkes. Then Fawkes sneezed, sending a burst of flame out from its beak and singeing Dumbledore's beard.

The first years weren't too sure now.

McGonagall rested the hat on the stool and then took a step backward. To the first years' collective shock, the tip lifted itself up, revealing a face made out of wrinkles in the tattered hat. The remarkably emotive face lifted an eyebrow, then smiled wildly.

"Ah…" It said raspily. It paused, coughing a few times. "A new set of first years to sort, eh? Well, I think I should introduce you to your options…"

The hat took a deep breath, somehow making the sound of inhaling despite the lack of a hole where its mouth wrinkle was, and then began to _sing_.

"_Welcome to Hogwarts,_

_Both those new and old,_

_To a place of learning, _

_I've been told,_

_But teaching is not my place,_

_Even if learning may be yours,_

_For I am the Sorting Hat,_

_And to Sort is my chore,_

_To send those who seek never-ending adventure,_

_A gallivant around the globe,_

_To the place that will help them discover,_

_If Fairies truly do have Tails,_

_To send those who seek a simpler kind of joy,_

_The excitement of a party,_

_And the chaos of mischief,_

_To the place that will treat them to the fun that will come,_

_If they attempt to sew a Fourth head onto a three-headed Hound,_

_To send those who would prefer to spend their days inside,_

_Learning the ways of the world from their texts,_

_And telling the others to give it a rest,_

_To the place that will teach them how to discover,_

_Why Lamia's have Scales,_

_To send those who wish to reach,_

_Their ambitious goals,_

_To the place that will teach them the cunning they will need,_

_To become a Lord amongst the Phantoms of the world,_

_Fairy Tail,_

_Quatro Cerberus,_

_Lamia Scale,_

_Phantom Lord,_

_Equal but different,_

_And now that they've been introduced, _

_It is time,_

_For me to decide,_

_Which of the four,_

_Will be where you reside."_

Once the hat had finished singing, it twisted its top around to peer back at McGonagall.

"You can call up the first years now, youngster," It stated.

The Professor nodded with a straight face, ignoring the hat's comment on her age, and then took a long rolled-up piece of parchment out of the air, which made a tiny flash of light that reminded Harry of Erza's Requip magic.

'Maybe it _was _Requip magic…' Harry thought.

"Alberona, Cana!" The Professor called.

A brown-haired girl wearing a blue tank top and brown jeans beneath her robes walked up to the podium, a wide smile on her face. McGonagall lifted the hat off the stool and gestured toward it, so Cana sat on the stool. The hat was placed over her head, sliding down to cover her eyes. The hat was obviously meant for an adult.

The hat leaned from side to side, comically mimicking a person pacing from side to side. After a few more moments it nodded, shouting: "Quatro Cerberus!" Cana's robes turned brown, and the hat was pulled from her head. She got up and rushed down toward her table, which was clapping loudly, without waiting for the Professor to dismiss her. McGonagall's expression hardened slightly, but she let the girl continue despite the faux pas.

"Astra, Aries!" The Professor shouted.

The sorting continued in a similar vein from there. Aries went to Quatro Cerberus with Cana, and then another student was called. Harry gradually began to tune out the sorting, only paying attention whenever a name was odd, like when 'Connell, Alzack' was sent to Fairy Tail. Hermione, the girl from Diagon Alley, was sent to Fairy Tail, despite the hat clearly trying to convince her otherwise; his frustration was rather obvious. A blonde girl whose name stood out 'Heartfilia, Lucy,' was sent to Phantom Lord. Neville's little sister was sent to Lamia Scale.

"Longbottom, Mirajane!" Professor McGonagall yelled.

'Neville has two sisters?' Harry thought curiously.

A white-haired girl that looked a little older than Neville stepped up to the stage. She was dressed in what Harry could only describe as an odd mix of punk rock and goth clothing, beneath her school robes. Beside him, Harry heard Erza _growl_. Apparently, they knew each other.

"Phantom Lord!" The hat declared.

There was no clapping from the Phantom Lord table. They were all glaring at her like she was a pariah. When she calmly sat down at her table, every student near her scooted a few feet away.

'Well that's odd," Harry thought.

Neville was the next person Harry cared to pay attention to. The hat sat on his head for the longest time yet, taking nearly five minutes to decide.

"Fairy Tail!" The hat stated.

Neville's expression shifted into an incredible grin, and he shot off to his table as if he was being timed—and if he failed to reach the table in time he'd be turned away.

"Ahem…" The hat said from atop Neville's head. "I still have some more children to sort Mr. Longbottom, so I'm afraid I must ask you to return me to your Professor."

The Fairy Tail table laughed good-naturedly, along with the Quatro Cerberus table. Lamia Scale snorted, and Phantom Lord laughed in a way that was obviously meant to be cruel. Frankly, it was impressive they managed to convey that level of emotion in a simple laugh.

Neville charged back to the stool, blushing a brighter red than Erza's hair, and shot back to his seat after handing the hat back.

A few students later, and it was Juvia's turn. The hat opened its mouth, beginning to say "La-" when the girl's expressionless grin twisted into a snarl. The hat coughed a few times, then stated "Fairy Tail" quite loudly.

One student later, Malfoy was sorted into Phantom Lord, followed shortly thereafter by an overly skinny girl called 'Parkinson, Pansy.'

"Potter, Harry!" Professor McGonagall shouted.

The hall was already mostly quiet, but the Professor's declaration changed 'mostly' to 'completely.' It was rather eerie, all told, how many eyes shifted to stare at the group of first years. Harry took a deep breath and walked forward, up to the stool. The sheer amount of attention focused on him when he sat on the stool was almost panic-inducing.

**§ **Why are so many two-legssss staring at you, Little Masssster? **§ ** Arto asked suddenly.

**§ **Not right now Arto! I'll explain later! **§ **Harry hissed as quickly and quietly as he was able.

Suddenly, he couldn't see anything, as the hat was now covering his eyes with its brim. Harry could still feel the attention, but it was highly muted by his inability to _see_ the many pairs of eyes he knew were focused on him.

'Ho-ho!' The hat said mentally. Harry heard the hat but could feel that he wasn't speaking out loud. Was the hat reading his mind?

'Yes actually, but I'm not sorting through your memory or anything like that,' The hat explained. 'That would be incredibly rude! No, I'm simply getting a feel for your personality, which has the side effect of showing me your surface thoughts.'

'Oh. Alright then,' Harry replied.

'Hmm… You _are_ an odd one, aren't you? You'll definitely be having an interesting time here at Hogwarts,' The hat muttered. 'Do you have any preference toward a guild?'

'Umm…' Harry thought for a moment. 'Fairy Tail. It sounds the best. I like reading, but I also like _doing_ things. Mischief sounds… somewhat interesting? But I'm not really sure its a good fit for me. Ambition I can understand, I definitely know _something _that I want to do, but it's already been done by coming to Hogwarts. Besides, I wouldn't call myself a "cunning" person. Adventure sounds wonderful though, I've never had one of those, and they always seemed interesting on the telly.'

'That is an impressively honest assessment. It is somewhat similar to my own, in fact. You _are_ suited to Fairy Tail, although I think you have more cunning and ambition than you believe.' The hat replied.

"Fairy Tail!" The hat shouted.

What followed was the most deafening cacophony of sound Harry had ever had the displeasure of enduring. The red table had _lost _it with their shouting and celebrating. Harry supposed he could understand, he _was_ a celebrity after all, whether he wanted that title or not.

The hat was taken off his head, and he walked as quickly as he could without flat out running to the table. Several people patted his back as he walked past. Several of them tried to offer him seats, but he politely turned their offers down, choosing instead to sit to the right of Juvia, and across from Neville. They were the only two people he knew at the table, despite the fact that he knew them marginally better than those around him.

Another few students were sorted, among them a boy named 'Redfox, Gajeel' who had odd metal markings on his nose, brows, and forearms. Harry couldn't tell if they were piercings or something else. He had black hair and was dressed in a black sleeveless tunic and baggy tan pants. He went to the Phantom Lord table with a predatory grin on his face.

Erza was called to the stool shortly thereafter. The hat seemed to ponder for a few moments, before shouting 'Fairy Tail.' Erza sat to Harry's left, pushing aside the random stranger that was previously there when they didn't move.

A few more students were sorted, when the Weasley boy from earlier was sent to Fairy Tail. He glared at Harry, then purposely sat away from him. Shortly thereafter, 'Zabini, Blaise' was sorted into Phantom Lord. He was the last first year.

"Well, it seems we have finished with that," Dumbledore said, standing up and silencing the crowd with his presence. Professor McGonagall walked off the stage, giving a careless flick of her wrist after she had gotten off it, undoing the stage's existence. Another flick sent the stool back to the corner it had originated from. She brought the Sorting hat up to the head table and set it on top of a special hook that was on Fawke's perch.

Dumbledore nodded to the woman, and she took her seat.

"Now, I have a few words before we eat," The man stated. "They are cattywampus, bibble, flibbertigibbet, snollygoster,"

"Did he just have a stroke?" Harry muttered quietly to himself, bewildered at the Headmaster's… odd choice of words.

"That is all, dig in!" Dumbledore declared.

The tables abruptly filled with food, startling Harry. There were mounds of food, stacked impossibly—and unreasonably—high. The food didn't topple, despite the hundreds of hands grabbing at it. Fairy Tail's table was utterly chaotic, with people fighting over food or choice of drink. Quatro Cerberus was in a similar condition, while Lamia Scale and Phantom Lord were moderately more relaxed.

Harry managed to procure a simple chicken breast, with a few scoops of broccoli on the side. It was more food than he would normally get, but it was still less than many of the students grabbed.

"It'll be nice eating until I'm completely full most of the time," Harry muttered incredibly quietly

Neville tried to start a conversation a few times, but it was not to be. By the time the table's had quieted down enough for such a thing to occur, almost all of the students were done eating.

"So uhh…" Neville began.

Dumbledore interrupted by standing up, silencing the hall for the third time that night. Every plate and morsel of food disappeared just before he spoke.

"Well, everyone seems to have finished their supper," The Headmaster said. "Since we have finished eating, it is time for the school song."

A collective groan rang out from almost the entire student body, the only exceptions being a pair of red-haired twins in Quatro Cerberus and the majority of the first years.

"No?" Dumbledore asked, a smile partially hidden by his beard. "Oh very well, I suppose we can skip it for now. I shall only delay you as long as it takes for me to relay the start-of-term announcements, then you may retire to your rooms."

The mood in the room took a sharp turn for the better now that they wouldn't be singing whatever the 'school song' was.

"It must be terrible," Harry mumbled.

"First, the Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, _quite_ forbidden. Hopefully, the message will sink in this year for some of our resident trouble makers," Dumbledore explained with a smile. "Secondly, Quidditch tryouts will begin for second years and above on the Friday two weeks from now. Thirdly, the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom has been moved from the third-floor corridor, which is now quite dangerous due to an accident during the summer. Do not venture within the former classroom unless you wish to suffer a painful death. If you do, please direct yourself to Madam Pomfrey, she is a licensed Mediwitch and Mind Healer."

"Did… did he actually just say that?" Harry muttered to himself.

"I think he did," Neville replied quietly.

"Why don't they just seal off the corridor?" Erza asked.

"It is nearly impossible to modify Hogwarts, and conjurations don't last very long," Juvia explained.

"Now, let us all away to bed," Dumbledore continued. "There is quite a bit of work for each of us to begin on the morrow. Follow your head of house to your dorms."

The old man turned on his heel and walked around his chair. Fawkes leapt off his perch and glided to Dumbledore's shoulder as the Headmaster left the hall through a back exit. Professor McGonagall stood up, along with all the other teachers, and walked around the table. Unlike the others, who—with the exception of the other three heads of houses—left the hall, she walked to the very front of the table.

"Fairy Tail!" She called. "Follow me."

Every student garbed in a red robe stood up from their seats and followed the woman out of the hall. Several older students, who had badges that labeled them 'Prefects', organized the students into a somewhat organized line. The red-robed house followed the Professor down several twists and turns, eventually coming to a stop in front of a portrait of a very… chubby… woman. She was garbed in clothing reminiscent of medieval nobility. Harry could not have guessed the century it was from.

"Hello Professor," The woman said. A small portion of the crowd started, Hermione being among them, but most didn't react.

McGonagall gave the portrait a nod of acknowledgment and then turned to face the assembled students.

"The Fairy Tail dorms are behind the portrait of this woman, who has been nicknamed 'the Fat Lady' by students a few centuries ago. You will have to tell her the password whenever you wish to enter. You may bring students from other guilds into the common room, but they are _not_ to hear the password, _nor _are they to enter the dorm rooms themselves." The old woman explained. "The password changes every two weeks, and is currently 'Cauda Fae.' The new password will be announced every other Sunday in the main common room at 9:00 am. Do I make myself clear?"

All the students nodded or made some sound of confirmation.

"Very well, the boys' dorms are accessed via the right side stairwell, and the girls' the left. You will not be able to enter the opposite dorm of where you belong. The rear stairwell will bring you to the different common rooms, as one is not enough to hold all the students." The Professor explained and then turned to the Fat Lady. "Cauda Fae."

The portrait swung forward, with the wall around it, revealing a large doorway that led to a large circular room. Inside was an abundance of cushiony red furniture, wooden desks, and a few fireplaces that were burning without visible fuel.

"For the first years, your name will be etched in your dorm room. Do not enter until you have your roommates with you. Once you do, touch the door handle simultaneously and do not attempt to turn it until you no longer feel sick." Professor McGonagall ordered. "You are dismissed."

"Why would we feel sick?" Harry muttered to himself.

The relatively ordered line of students fell into disarray as most of the students tried to enter all at once. Soon, it became a matter of all the students getting squeezed through the entrance with the crowd pushing them forward. Harry waved goodnight to Erza and Juvia, who'd gotten separated by the crowd. They waved back awkwardly and shuffled off to their dorms. Neville was relatively close to Harry, and they were both pressed toward the boys' dorms.

A few minutes and quite a few steps up a spiral stairwell, Harry had arrived at his dorm room. Engraved on the door was his name, as well as a few others:

Alzack Connell

Neville Longbottom

Harry Potter

Ronald Weasley

"Damnit!" A familiar voice shouted from behind. Ronald Weasley had arrived, and he wasn't happy with the fact he was roommates with Harry.

Harry turned around to face the ginger boy, hands raised in a placating gesture. Thinking quickly, Harry did his best to calm the boy down. He did _not_ want a roommate who hated him. That would not end well.

"I'm sorry I'm your roommate, but we can't really help that," Harry said soothingly, as his hair shifted to pink. "How about we have a cease-fire. I know you don't like me, and I don't really know you. I suggest we simply ignore each other whenever we're in the dorms. Maybe later you'll decide I'm not too bad, maybe not. Either way, you don't have to worry about me doing something to you in your sleep, and vice-versa."

"Err…" Ron started. "I… I guess so. I'm watching you though! I know you're really evil!"

"That works for me," Harry accepted with a smile.

'That was a close one. I'm glad he's got more brains then Dudley or his crew. Maybe he'll actually realize I'm not evil just because I can speak to Arto.' Harry thought happily.

A few minutes later and they were joined by Neville, who'd gotten separated in the crowd on the way up the stairwell and Alzack Connell, who was a Spanish looking boy with long black hair that covered his right eye. He wore a brown tasseled poncho beneath his Hogwarts robes, a red shirt, and tasseled brown pants. He looked remarkably like a miniature cowboy, with the only thing detracting from the image being his long hair.

"Hello," He said politely once he'd arrived. "I'm Alzack Connell."

"Nice to meet you," Neville replied. "I-I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"And you're Harry Potter," Alzack finished, looking at Harry. "I've gotta say, I either won the lottery with you being my roommate or lost it terribly."

"Lost it," Ron muttered disdainfully.

"Eheh, I'd like to think you won it, but I don't really get to decide that," Harry replied uncomfortably. "Nice to meet you."

The four boys stared at each other for a moment, when Ron broke the silence.

"Let's just open the door already," He suggested.

The other three nodded in reply and they all reach toward the door's circular bronze handle. It was awkward, but they all managed to touch it simultaneously. Instantly, they were all hit by a powerful wave of nausea. They each brought a hand up to cover their mouth and they clenched their eyes tight. It felt like the lights were swimming through the air around them.

The feeling continued for several seconds, finally stopping just as they all were about to vomit.

"Wha- what was that?" Ron stuttered.

"That sucked!" Alzack said, already over the sick feeling.

"I just wanna go to bed now," Neville groaned.

"L-let's look inside," Harry suggested, still not completely over the nausea.

Harry stood up and pushed the door open. Inside was a large rectangular room that had a huge window taking up the entire rear wall. In front of the window was a large rectangular rug with immobile designs of multicolored fairies fluttering around upon it. There were four beds, two to either side, each twin-sized and with drapes. To the left of each bed was a dresser and a desk, while one dresser—the one next to the back-right corner bed—had a standing privacy screen to its left. That dresser also had an extra drawer for some reason.

Each bed was decorated differently, with themed sheets and drapes. The one immediately to the right had several cowboys chasing bandits all across the bed sheets and into the drapes, literally. They would use lassoes and magical guns to round up the bandits, who would escape with knives they'd hidden, and the process would repeat. The bed instantly on the left had animated mages, flying on brooms, chasing after several varying sized metal balls. Once they caught the balls, they would be placed in a brown box at the base of the bed, which would break open a few seconds later, releasing the orbs.

The back left bed had an incredible multitude of magical animals running around on it, chasing and playing with each other peacefully. The last bed, the one with the privacy screen, had a massive dragon chasing after a black figure with horns. The dragon would send swaths of blue flame down at the figure, which would respond with a burst of black flame, and continue running.

Each bed had a name engraved into a metal plate on its head board. The cowboy-themed bed was Alzack's, the broom bed Ron's, the menagerie Neville's, and the draconic battle Harry's.

"Looks like we don't have to worry about which has who's stuff," Alzack said contentedly.

"Seem like it," Harry agreed.

"I'm going to bed, don't keep me up," Ron ordered. He jumped onto his bed, only taking the time to slip off his shoes before he closed his drapes.

"Alright, good night Ron," Neville replied.

"Night," Ron mumbled. He sounded like he had his face buried in his pillow.

"I guess I'll go to bed too," Alzack said. He walked over to his dresser and began to change into his pajamas.

"Same here," Harry added as he walked over to his dresser. The extra drawer wouldn't open for some reason, so he put it out of mind. Better to worry about it later, when he wasn't as tired as he suddenly was. Arto slithered off his shoulder and onto the railing the bed's drapes were hanging from. He wrapped himself around them and clearly began to drift off to sleep.

Neville didn't say anything but began to change as well.

"Good night," Harry said as he closed his curtains.

"G'night," Alzack said as he closed his drapes.

"Night everyone," Neville said as he got on his bed.

All four of the boys slowly drifted off to sleep. They had quite the week ahead of them.

~~~In Which This is A Line Break~~~~

**So, first of all I just want to mention that I probably wouldn't have finished this chapter until at the very least next week, if not next month, if it wasn't for the fact that I got such positive reviews. Not to harp on the subject, but it was incredibly inspiring that people would take the time to leave comments on my work that were more detailed than the infamous 'pretty cool I guess,' or 'kill yourself this is trash,' that I see on so many stories that I've read. So thank you.**

**Next, to pre-emptively answer the question of "YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T BASH ANYONE! WHY'RE YOU BASHING RON?!" No, I'm not bashing him. From what I've seen of Ron's personality throughout my extended reading and research, this is a reasonably in character way of reacting to the fact that Harry is a Parselmouth—before befriending him! Don't worry, for you Ron lovers, he will still be an important character throughout the series, he just won't be a part of the main group until he's forced to grow up a bit. He'll be a recurring character instead of a main one until then. However, I'm still undecided as to whether he'll be incredibly important like cannon HP, or if he'll take up a role similar to cannon Neville, being part of the main cast, but not the **_**main**_** main cast if you get what I mean.**

**Next, I have a question for all of you! Everyone who's been reading my story—again, quite a few more people than I expected—pairing **_**type**_**.**** I've thought this story through quite a bit, and while I'll still be deciding particulars as I go, I've got most of the plot outline written up mentally. The important bits at least. Excluding, however, the way I'm going to **_**end**_** the romance aspect of this fic. The way I see it, there's technically four and a half ways I could take this, two of which are out of the running already, but I'll still mention them for the sake of an in-depth explanation.**

**Harry doesn't end up in a relationship at all. This one is out of the running simply because I think it would make things boring.**

**Harry ends up in a relationship with ONE of the people he's been engaged to. This is still being considered. ****(I will be explaining why he's engaged to an unknown amount of girls later in the next few chapters by the way. I won't just be doing something everyone's done before, I'm applying my own spin on it.)**

**Harry ends up in a relationship with SOME but NOT ALL of the girls. Eg. a multi relationship in a way similar to how it was done in several of Vimesethusiast's fics, as well as **_**Harry Potter and the Daft Morons**_** (By Sinyk in case you were wondering. Great fic, but it's bash heavy)**** or how it was similarly done in **_**Soul Scars**_** (by Rtnwriter. Another great fic. Its angsty though, so you've been warned. Before you freak out, I won't be having anywhere near that level of angst in this fic. There's nothing wrong with it, but I don't think it would fit the tone of this story.) ****This is the path I'm currently leaning towards, three girls, well three and a half with Harry (this half of Ranma comedy will be beginning either next chapter or the one directly following it). If I do take this path, I will be **_**very**_** careful to make sure I make those involved separate and distinct characters instead of generic love-interests.**

**Harry gets a harem. This is NOT HAPPENING. I've **_**almost never**_** seen it done in a way that doesn't make the girls involved at a minimum somewhat interchangeable, if you exclude their "type." I have seen exactly two fics that managed to make it most of the way through the fic without making the girls interchangeable, but that fell apart (in my opinion) near their ends. They're good fics though, so you should definitely look at them.**** (The Fate/Stay Night fic In Flight by Gabriel Blessing & the somewhat similar Naruto fic Ashikabi no Shinobi by The Engulfing Silence)**

**This is simply an addendum that can be tacked onto any of the previous paths, with the exception of A, where Harry does whatever is involved with those paths, but without it being a relationship with those he's in marriage contracts with. ****(Meaning he escapes those pesky legal documents somehow and finds love elsewhere.) ****If I do this it will be paired (hah! Pun intended!) with option B, not C, as I already know what ladies will be involved with Harry if I go with the multi path.**

**So, please leave a review, DM, or some kind of message (assuming there's other ways on this site. I'm not sure if there is or isn't) with your opinion. I'm curious about what you all think.**

**Lastly, yes there **_**is**_** a reason why there isn't perpetual rain following Juvia and why she doesn't seem gloomy all the time instead of the current 'serious.' Similarly, she doesn't say 'plip, plop,' etc all the time for the same reason. It will be explained later on in the story. For now, just don't worry about it.**

**Thank you all for reading,**

**Isdren.**


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